Passion Play
by Crazyfangirl23
Summary: Clara Oswald is an experienced ballet dancer transferring to a production theatre with much different styles of dancing, and she soon meets the enigmatic John Disco, a confident and daring dancer that might just sweep her off her feet.
1. Chapter 1

Passion Play

Chapter 1

Clara came to a stop outside the theatre, her breath catching in her throat. It was vast, taking up at least three houses just from the outside. She could only imagine the shows they put on. Slowly she walked up the steps, pausing in front of the door. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe she'd ignore her advice and turn back round. It hadn't been her choice, after all. Her instructor had told her to venture deeper into the world of dance, but standing there now she just wished she was back in her studio, dancing an elegant contemporary ballet number. This was much out of her comfort zone. Taking a deep breath, she swung the doors open to a darkened atrium, with black marble running across the floor. Beautiful windows with patterns ran all the way up to the ceiling, a high vaulted dome above her head. She gazed in wonder, admiring the intricate curlicues of the metal reaching to the central chandelier. Everything about it was so picturesque, very different to what she was used to. Clara wondered why an atrium as appealing and graceful as this one was deserted. Unless the stage was much grander. It almost intimidated her decision, but she decided to be bold. There was a set of double doors ahead of her, and she walked toward them, noticing a small corridor to the left. Pushing it open she revealed a dazzling theatre with light equipment above her head and hundreds of seats around her. The stage was as big as she'd hoped; an extensive, immaculate dancing space she was itching to perform on it already. As her eyes swept over every detail she could pick out, she could feel the grandeur and magic of it all sink into her very bones. She was presently jolted from her admiration to realise a woman standing in front of her. She had red hair and a kind expression which put Clara instantly at ease. She had only been there five minutes and yet the setting and people were already making her feel calm and involved.

'You came in through the main entrance,' she chuckled, 'our fault, no one was there to welcome you. Your name is Clara?'

'Uhm, yes.' She hesitated, bewildered suddenly to reality as the woman took her hand in her own.

'We've been expecting you. I'm Donna, the director of this company. I'll show you to backstage.' She laughed again, and winked. Clara was still feeling overwhelmed as she lead her to the corridor she had passed earlier. It opened to a room with a water dispenser and even more doors. They went through the last one on the right to reveal a spacious lounge area, which she supposed was where everyone ate and relaxed.

'This is mostly where everyone is apart from the studios.' Donna explained, and the tour continued. Clara was shown the changing rooms, the exits, the doors to the stage, the lighting and effects team, and the many number of studios until they finally came to a meeting type room with a group of dancers already there. Clara smiled nervously at them as Donna lead her in.

'This is Clara, new transfer. This is my team,' she turned to her, introducing them. 'Its only us, which is quite disproportionate when you think of how much space we have, but we're always happy to take in newer people.'

Clara nodded, approaching the strangers and observing the many faces.

'This is Rory,' she pointed to a blonde man wearing a navy jacket, 'Amy, Martha, Mickey, Rose, Sarah Jane, Tom, J-'

A friendly and charming man with spiky brown hair bounded up to shake her hand with a smile before Donna could finish.

'I'm Jack,' he told her, 'but most people just call me Captain Jack.'

'Uh, why is that?'

'Because that's what he calls himself.' A voice to the right said drily, and she turned to see a man with a shock of unruly silver curls and an independently angry expression, leaning against the back of a chair with his arms crossed. She was a little taken aback by him, very different to his colleagues and a little older.

Jack appeared to ignore him, and smiled again at her, flashing some dazzling white teeth. She immediately knew she liked him.

'And this is Ashildr,' Donna continued, 'Chris, but we call him Nine.'

Not questioning further about nicknames, she politely smiled and he grinned back, a half eaten banana in hand. He seemed very much in league with Jack's antics.

'And this, last but not least,' she gestured to the grey stick insect that had spoken earlier, 'is John.'


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He inclined his head a fraction in greeting and returned to his fixated glare at the walls. Clara could tell he was a lot more unapproachable and independent than the rest of them.

'Which line of dance did you do before?' Jack inquired further.

'Contemporary and lyrical type of dances, mostly ballet though.'

He chuckled briefly. 'Brilliant. I've always wanted to become a ballerina.'

'You'd suit the tutu.' John commented coldly again, a Scottish accent she hadn't noticed earlier now blatant.

'Are you sure you've signed up to the right gig? We do every type of dance except ballet.' Rory laughed.

'My instructor told me to try something new, I've already done every type of ballet dance in the industry.' She said confidently. Rory seemed impressed, which boosted her esteem a little bit with all these new people. She was sure she would eventually fit in and gain them all as friends.

'Right,' Donna clapped her hands together, 'we're going to do our partnered dances again, start practising for the show. And you, Mr Disco,' she advanced toward John, who groaned. 'Are going to keep up with the judging. You can start dancing again next week, now we've found you a partner,' she smiled at Clara, who was quite literally shocked. She hadn't known she would be partnering up with anyone, much less for a show. She mostly did solo pieces, and out of everyone there it was just her luck to be paired up with the grouchiest of the lot.

'Can't I just start to work? I'm the one doing the most dances.'

'And you're also the best, so you need to take a break.'

John's mouth twitched almost to a smile. He seemed to think he was, too.

'Fine.'

He immediately strode out of the room, and she watched his retreating figure with a fascinated intrigue.

Donna finally turned to her, after ordering everyone else to different studios.

'Right, Clara. I'm afraid you won't be able to start properly dancing until next week, when John is done with his casting. You can have a wander round, watch some of our coupled dances, they won't mind. Leaving is fine for lunch or you can eat in the lounging area, whatever you call it. You don't have to come back in for the rest of the week if you don't want to, but it gives you good time to become familiar with this place and it's people. Have you done many partnered dances?'

'A few, a couple of years ago now. I've mostly done solo work, in stage ballet productions like Swan Lake and Nutcracker. But I'm actually very new to these dances.'

'Well, that's fine. Hopefully you'll learn a lot in the next four months running up to the show. You're the first permanent dancer to join this group in a while. Most people just audition for our big shows, where we need extra dancers, which is what John is judging for now. We mostly just do small performances, just the 12 of us. Now you're here John finally has someone to dance with! You've both gone solo for a while, so it will be interesting to see what you'll do together.'

'Aren't you a dancer then?' Clara asked, suddenly realising her arrival had taken them up to an odd thirteen.

'Well, I used to be, but I'm just the instructor here. Had a major back injury a few years ago, and while it damaged my chances of dancing again I couldn't give it up, so I became the director instead.' She explained.

'I'm sorry.'

'No, no, no, it was a long time ago now. I mean, not that long ago. I'm not old. I don't look it, do I?'

'No, of course not.'

'Ah good. John likes to scare me by saying I'm getting almost as grey as him.' She laughed. 'Well, I'm looking forward to having you on the team, Clara,' she gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder, 'I'm sure you could educate us in return with lyrical and ballet dances.'

She grinned again at her, still very friendly and left Clara by herself. She examined the room, a small table and a scatter of chairs, a rack of old costumes and a small desk with paperwork she assumed was Donna's. She watched a few dancers, Jack and Ashildr mostly, working on a Charleston. Clara was very happy watching them, picking up a few techniques she hadn't explored and generally enjoying the enthusiasm and charisma they gave to the dance. She ended up back at the stage, which had called to her from the very beginning and was far too enticing to resist. She opened the door to find John sitting in the middle row, slumped down in his seat and looking bored out of his mind. As she drew closer it became apparent that he was actually asleep, his head nearly touching the papers he had in front of him. She leant over his shoulder to peer at them, a list of names, some with crosses through them and some left blank. Clara knew this was the auditions for the extra dancers. She decided to leave him there peacefully, when his head suddenly lolled back to expose his long neck, revealing the stubble under his chin that lead down to his Adam's apple. His lips were pressed closed and his body gave the impression he wasn't even breathing. Clara hastened her exit, backing out of the row, which apparently was the best time for him to wake up with a growl. His head fell forward, reaching down to his chest until it snapped back and his eyes were wide open. His eyebrows furrowed and his angry expression only increased to irritated.

'What are you doing?' He accused, rather sharply.

Clara was shocked at his aggressiveness. She hadn't come across someone like him for a very long time.

'Uh, nothing. Wandering around.'

'Well, don't wander too far.' He said, his head falling promptly in his hands. He kneaded his head in exasperation.

'I hate this. I've got so many people to write off and watch again.'

'What are you doing?' She persisted. Of course she knew but for some reason she felt the need to keep talking to him, whether rude or not.

'Selecting dancers for our production. It's rather tiring work.'

'I can see that.'

He suddenly looked up at her, his intense gaze making her feel slightly uncomfortable. She had no idea how they were going to dance together.

'Why have you suddenly upped your sticks here with no experience in this type of dancing?'

'Because I've only worked on ballet, and my instructor told me to do something different.' She repeated again.

'Why?' He questioned. His face was such that it appeared to be looking for an answer but couldn't find one.

'Because I'm good at ballet.'

'You mean that you were the best. Everyone had to rise to your competition.'

He had it spot on, and yet she felt modest about it. Nodding, his mouth twitched upward to form a sort of smile.

'No need to be bashful about it,' he told her, noticing her silence, 'I've had that too.'

'Are you really the best in this place?'

'I like to think so. Donna only admits it when she wants me to do something. Have you seriously never learned a tango or a salsa, at least?'

She shook her head, watching him laugh at her response.

'This will be interesting.' He concluded. He chuckled again. 'I'm gonna gave my work cut out this year.' And with that his head banged against the table and he made no other signs of life or noise.

Clara turned and walked out, leaving him alone. While she was a little insulted at his sarcasm and disregard of her previous experiences he seemed like he could teach her well. Time would only tell.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day followed much like the first. And the day after that and the day after that. All the couples were very friendly and she had already agreed to teach Jack some ballet. She had picked up some really good steps and was told about all of the dances she'd be doing. Apparently John was to do most of them so she would have to learn them all pretty quickly, which made her nervous. Clara hadn't spoken to him much after their conversation in the theatre, which probably wasn't smart since they would be interacting with each other in more ways than one soon. With each passing day she felt apprehensive about dancing with him, and the fact she was so beginner in this area. It wasn't that she regretted it, but it did influence her thinking. If it were not for Rose's kind comments and advice she would have talked her way out of it. She also noticed that John was exactly how she had thought him to be, unsocial, inaccessible, who only really talked to Sarah Jane. However her observance concluded that he was ridiculously in fact, a heartthrob. Every time he moved there was some reaction, even from Jack (who she had gathered already was attracted to both genders) and he appeared not to make anything of it. At one point, sitting in the comfy chairs of the eating area he had gotten up silently and swept out the room with his jacket in hand and everyone had turned at his movement. She didn't know what it was that made him so charming but she could see that there was definitely a widespread reaction. Either John was oblivious, or was lapping it up like a dog. She tended to think the latter.

'Clara?' Donna stood in front of her, waving a hand over her face. She had been too deep in thought to notice her. 'Oh, sorry.'

'Could you possibly fetch the balance boards for practice. Rose and Nine will be doing some tricky lifts. I hope that's okay? Bit tied up at the moment.'

'Um, no that's fine. What room?'

'They're in the room directly backstage next to the changing rooms.'

'Okay.'

Clara knew by now where to go, her footsteps taking her behind stage with ease. There were three doors, and she tried the middle. She burst into the changing room, a figure turning round to stare at her with one eyebrow lifted in surprise. It was John, and her breathing became shallow as she braced herself for an explosion. Yet he hardly said anything. He was only half turned toward her, a black t-shirt in hand and his chest exposed. From what she could see of it he was thin but incredibly lean, and he quickly pulled the t-shirt over his head. His beard was quickly growing wilder, now spikes more than stubble and she thought she caught a flash of silver gleam at his neck. A thick silence settled between them and Clara couldn't think of what to say on behalf of her interruption.

'What are you doing?'

Again, those words slipped out of his mouth toward her just like the first time, and she was just as addled. She hadn't quite worked out how to play him yet.

'Looking for the boards.'

'Well, they're not in here.' He replied sarcastically.

'Clearly.' Her voice raised a little, giving herself more and more confidence as the seconds ticked by.

'They're in the next room.' He emphasised, nodding his head to the left. He still looked surprised but resumed his choleric demeanour.

'Right. Uh, thanks.' Her eyes teared away from him and she could feel his eyes following her as she walked out. No movement suggested he was still standing there frozen, like he had been caught in the act of doing something criminal. She didn't know why her disruption startled him so, if anything because he was embarrassed by his body or anyone else seeing it. But that was hardly believable, she thought. Clara entered the next room, laden with all sorts of equipment, most of which she knew and had used herself. She spotted a few raised leather boards and took one in hand. It was easily taller than herself and moderately heavy, but one by one she managed to haul them to Rose and Nine's studio. With every trip she gave a glance toward the changing room but she didn't personally see John exit from it. The last board was wedged between a stack of weights and some poles, which proved difficult to budge. Her tugging caused an unknown pole to drop to the floor but she hardly noticed it as she pulled on the leather and it finally came free. She stepped back but she hit the rolling pole and fell. Just as her head was to hit the floor a pair of hands caught her head in their lap, and her vision blurred together to see John's eyes look down at her, his knees bent and his nose looming large above. She realised the board had been released of her grasp and the pole resting her ankles. Her whole body was levitated above the ground by an inch and he still held her head. Smirking, he took her hand and spun her to her feet with an expertise that seemed to be effortless.

'I'll be catching you when you fall from now on.' He told her, and Clara felt flustered, but unimpressed.

'Very funny. You have good reflexes, though.'

'Tis only to be expected.' He replied.

Everything about the situation just created a more palpably awkward atmosphere. Clara had a hard time looking at him directly.

He took a step forward, bent down and took the board in hand, all the while never looking away from her eyes. She felt uncomfortable with such a gaze but he at last turned away.

'No, it's okay-'

'It's fine.' He told her, schlepping it over his shoulder one-handedly. Clara stood there while he sauntered away with it, unsure of what to do.

Once the day was gone and past and she gladly retired home she collapsed onto the sofa, petting her faithful dog as she entered a realm of her own thoughts. The next time she was back to the theatre she would be dancing, all sorts of different numbers she had heard of but never learned. And with John Disco himself. She questioned whether he would be a good teacher, if he could tolerate her or if she could tolerate him. The more she thought the more she could pick out every single little problem that would probably not even matter. John's face appeared in her head, all these questions surrounding him. She wondered if he would allow her to know certain personal things about himself, or if dance partners wasn't the same as friends to him. Either way her anticipation was short-lived just by the nervousness at dancing with John. Something about him unsettled her. Her mind was so swimmingly confused she let it rest and soon after fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Clara walked in the next Monday, John was nowhere to be seen. Over the weekend she had had time to think through the amount of work and pressure she'd be under by learning all of the dances, and especially with someone as impatient as John. And while Donna had given her his number he didn't call her for assurance or encouragement, and neither did she. Clara realised he might not have even been informed of it. She walked round the theatre, all the rooms, the stage, asking everyone where he was to which they didn't know. Donna told her he sometimes came in quite late but Clara was always one for being punctual, so he'd already disappointed her. By the time he showed up it was past the hour of 'being late' and Clara seriously considered if he thought that dancing was so easy he could learn a routine in an hour. Unfortunately, she couldn't.

'Where have you been?' She asked with a hint of sternness in his voice.

His eyebrows raised to her question. He probably wasn't used to being spoken to like that.

'I have another job, you know. It ran later than I thought.'

'Which job?'

'I work in my bookshop if you must know.'

Clara found it hard not to splutter. Of all things he could have said, owning a bookshop was one that would have come very low on the list. She tried to picture it but his character made it so difficult she ended up laughing aloud. At least she could say he was also intelligent.

'Yeah, go ahead, laugh at me. You won't be the one laughing when we start dancing.'

That quietened her. Usually when it came to dancing she was very confident, but with him she seemed like her own pride and ability was diminishing.

She followed him to a studio, where he began by not telling her a word of what he was doing.

'Excuse me, but I thought this was supposed to be partnered dancing?'

'If you want to pair up for the exercise be my guest,' he snorted, 'I thought you said you knew a lot about dance.'

'It does help when one communicates.'

He smirked at her, arms stretching above his head. 'My bad.'

They finally started on dancing, but not before a lecture.

'We'll be doing four dances, so you better hurry up and learn them, and learn them good.'

'That depends on the teacher too.' She cut in, disliking the way he ordered her. She had never much liked conformity.

'And the student.' He replied, 'now, if you'll let me speak, I can tell you about each dance. We'll be doing a tango, a rhumba, a salsa and either a mambo or a paso doble, haven't worked that out yet.'

Clara stared at him, shocked almost to the point of dumbfounded. The idea of getting up close and intimate with him was something she had never considered nor wanted. Those dances were best known for their sensual element, and she had been hoping for a jive, or some kind of jazz, which was more her area. Ballet was all about grace and beauty; those dances were much the contrary.

'You are joking?' She said, laughter tickling at the back of her throat. He stared at her in disbelief.

'Why would I be joking?'

'I expected maybe a swing dance, or something like a quickstep.'

He laughed. 'Yeah, everyone does those ones. Only a few do the harder dances.' He gloated.

'But why are we doing dances that are so similar to each other?'

'They're not similar, a and they are my style of dance. I don't do flighty lindy-hops and ballet. I do the fiery ones.'

'So, you're a bit of a passion player?'

'If you like. Now, we'll be starting with a tango-'

'How long will we have to complete each dance?' She interjected.

'God, you're always asking questions! Do you have an off button? I will get to everything if you just let me speak.'

She obediently stayed quiet. He paused before he spoke, his eyes like daggers into her skin. Clara didn't know how she would cope dancing with him with a gaze like that.

'Now, the tango. Ballroom dance originating in South America, very popular. We'll be doing the Argentine tango, which was actually born in Buenos Aires.'

Clara couldn't believe it. Was he picking out every single passionate dance he could find? He knew full well the argentine was more romantic than the others.

He bent down to the stereo, and music filled up the hall. As was the same for ballet, she could feel it already begin to affect the weight of her footsteps and lighten her heart.

'Okay, now, feel the beat of the music. 16 beats. The song repeats well, so don't get confused. 16 beats.'

Clara concentrated, her arms and legs itching to break out in dance. He slowly drew her closer to him, his hands holding onto her arms. She felt unusually self-conscious but concentrated on the music. Clara was glad they had their personal space for now.

'Practice position,' he explained softly, 'Don't go flighty, don't go light on your feet. Stay grounded, allow your movements to flow. We're doing the parallel walk, basic, well known. As I step forward with my left leg, you step backward with your right, then I step with my right forward, you step left back. Easy.'

He took the step forward, which she responded to, trying to keep up with the 16 beats. John slowed the pace, counting aloud for her. His eyes, when she looked at them again were much friendlier and understanding. She began to focus on her feet, feel the rhythm and step on the right counts.

'Look at me.' He told her, lifting her chin up. 'You don't have to concentrate on your movements step for step so much, just fall into the music.'

'You don't have to treat me as a beginner. I did ballet for seven years and I know how to do footwork.'

'I know. I'm just trying to make sure you become part of the dance, as the two are very different. And you are, broadly speaking, a beginner at tango.'

'Shut up.'

'See, there you are. Already in the fiery spirit.'

'Must be quite easy for you.'

'You have no idea.'

They went on like that for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, until Clara was confident with the rhythm and the pace.

'Right, good. Now, you get into position. It's typically called a V embrace. Here,' he pulled her into him so both their chests were touching, leaving space between their lower torso's. Their heads were almost joined, to the point they could hardly see each other. She inhaled a breath as he took her arms, placing them calmly over his shoulder while his own settled to her lower back. The tension was so high she could feel her very muscles tighten at being held like that. She hadn't done this in years and yet it felt extremely good.

'Relax,' he ordered, running his hands gently over her arms and looking at her so peacefully it made her want to fall asleep. If John really did have this effect on her, maybe she could dance a rhumba with him.

'Alright, start doing the parallel walk again. Keep your back straight, look directly in front of you, with your chin raised like some posh bastard, okay?'

She giggled, already beginning to feel his charm wash over her.

He counted it down, and then they were moving. Clara could tell John was already impressed by her solidity and fluency of movement but that was only to be expected. As long as he didn't act so surprised and treated her like a first timer again.

'You're evading your own rules,' she said, withdrawing slightly to see him look down below them.

'Yeah, I was just watching your steps. Do it again, step forward.'

She did as he said, and he watched his eyebrows rise.

'What, am I doing it wrong?'

'No, perfectly as it happens. You actually seem to have developed a bit of a sway of the hips already when you move. That's very good, you'll be easy to work with. I've had all sorts of heavy handed students but you've picked this up amazingly.'

'I do have to keep reminding you: ballet.' She emphasised.

'Hm, yeah. But I would have advised you to start this earlier, because you prove to be quite talented in this area of dance.'

'Maybe I'm an all-rounder.'

'Wouldn't surprise me. Right, no more chatting, back to work.'

Clara rolled her eyes, but happily let him take the lead.

'We'll start with a full round of 16 beats to this at first, and then on the next count of 4 you will actually sway your hips slightly. When you do that our arms will be raised and I'll spin you out. Got it?'

She nodded, and focused once again on the spot above the fire exit sign. She hardly had to think about her feet, it was already imprinted in her mind. Clara could feel his arm levitate and she nervously swayed twice to which he had no negative comments. As soon as her swaying ended he spun her out so she could finally see him and both their arms were extended.

Clara started laughing at how flustered she looked in the mirrors and John joined in too, looking impressed.

'That was excellent, especially for a first try. More of that, through and through. It has to be a sharp transition, and you certainly got it.'

She didn't tell him how much that lifted her spirits.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Clara soon realised why no one else was John's partner. And why Donna had mysteriously given her his phone number.

It seemed like every day of the week she was practising with him, dancing until her feet were sore, early in the morning to late at night. And he wouldn't stop there. He called her on weekends too, telling her to get to the studio ASAP. She was beginning to grow tired of it all, and despite being one of the best teachers she ever had, he didn't half stick to a strict schedule. He followed it religiously, which meant she had to as well. This included long work hours, healthy dieting and more exercise than she ever had done before, even for a show. Clara lived for the moments she was asleep and revelled in it as much she could. But it was only a few minutes later she'd get a phone call.

She dragged herself out of bed, fatigue weighing her down and her eyes only half awake. It was a normal Monday morning and John had instructed her intake for breakfast as usual. She was really beginning to break from his rigorous rulings and stupid routines. Once dressed she made her way to the now familiar building, yawning as she stepped through to the atrium. Her legs mostly carried her to her destination, mind muddled and confused, still stuck in dream replay. John was already there doing some sort of pirouette, arms outstretched pushing his momentum all the way round so he never faltered. She wandered in, absent-mindedly yawning once again, and he stopped directly in front of her.

'Protein shake.' He handed her a bottle full of a brown, thick liquid. She made a noise of protestation in return and pulled a face.

'Come on, Clara. Keep your energy up and your health.'

'Why do I need to eat and drink so bloody healthy?' She replied on a sigh.

'Because you need to be in good condition to dance properly. They're ridiculously good for you.'

'Do you actually like them?' She asked, making another face as she stared reproachfully at the grotesque liquid.

'Yeah.'

'This is why you're matchstick thin,' She said, gesturing to his body, 'all you ever eat is fruit, veg, and protein shakes. Have you seriously never heard of McDonalds?'

'Course I have. They're nice, by all means, but they don't give me enough strength. This is serious Clara, you have to be in good shape, especially for the show.'

'I've always been in good shape, what are you trying to say? I'd rather be rounder than skinnier.'

He quirked an eyebrow, still proffering the unappealing shake to her. With a sigh she took it, washing down the taste as fast as she could.

'Now,' he commanded, 'let's practice that lift.'

She could feel his fingers grip her waist as he began to bend his knees, but she didn't have the energy. Clara was so weak she couldn't even jump properly, and with each try John was growing more irritated.

'What's wrong with you today? We need to get this done!'

That was enough to make her swell with anger and her shouts became uncontrollable.

'Because I'm so fucking tired!' She burst out, and he stood there, watching her face grow pink and her fists clench and unclench.

'Language.' He simply said. It infuriated her even further.

'Why do we have such a strict schedule, John? I get that you want to get everything done and perfect for the show but I am bloody exhausted. I've been eating like a damn rabbit and having to wake up early to tire myself out more. Is there anything you do besides dance?'

He shifted uncomfortably, scratching his head and avoiding her eye contact.

'Not...not really.'

'Well, I do. And you can start to respect it. You seem to think you're a superhuman that doesn't need sleep or the occasional binge, and I don't care if that's the case or not, but it is for me. So back off and relax.'

'Maybe you should first.'

Clara gave him a death glare but he didn't seem to interpret the meaning of it. Instead his hand rested comfortingly on her arm, and her heart decreased in its thumping and her anger dissipated.

'You have to stick to the routine, Clara, simple as that.'

'Asshole.'

'But I guess enforcing what you eat is a little extreme. But protein is still very good.'

She shook her head, trying not to laugh at his face, stern but a smile in his eyes. That was how she liked him.

'Now, back to that lift.' He said, running his hands together. She groaned slightly, but put the effort in anyways. He lifted her upside down and over his shoulder, Clara trying to concentrate on keeping her already impeccable balance and with a pull on her waist he gently carried her down.

'That was better. That's what we want.'

She nodded, taking his arm to resume their dancing.

She did a back step with her leg crossing in the back of the other leg, and tied it nicely with a spin out, until they were back in each other's arms and doing the sharp head snaps with their entwined hands out in front of them. She hardly exhaled breath as she danced, revelling in the heat between them and how close he was to her. They were literally forehead to forehead and John's character really helped develop her own. He was as he promised; fiery and passionate, a real dominating and fierce dancer that took the tension to another level.

'Extend your leg further,' he told her, as it swept the ground in a circular motion to stop and stand directly opposite him, their bodies a fraction away from touching. Her arms travelled slowly down from his head to carefully caress his shoulder as she leaned into him. His arms enclosed her tightly and Clara knew this was the sensual part of the dance she had been dreading at first. But the feeling of his light, downy curls was irresistible to her fingertips and the perfect excuse to start touching his hair.

'This whole movement is very, very slow and drawn out,' he said, trying to keep her from transitioning to the next move, 'it has to be driven with emotion, to really give it justice.'

She did it again, this time lingering a little longer at his hair and head, leaning slightly toward his shoulder as her hands came to rest there.

'That's perfect. Right, do the figure of eight, and carousel...that's it.'

This time she was behind him, everything still so prolonged as if they were in slow motion. Her arm extended round his shoulder, John changed the weight from his leg to the other so her own leg could wrap round his waist. Her arms encircled her neck, and he looked at her with that same passion in much calmer, romantic tones. She tilted her head so their foreheads were nearly touching again. Being in that position created a burning sensation which she couldn't ignore. Her foot pointed and leg rested just below his thigh. It was so intimate she hardly moved until he instructed her.

'Don't forget to tuck your foot behind your other.'

As she unwrapped herself from him her hooked leg circled back round and stayed there, while John proffered his hand and from one moment to the next she was being spun out like lightning, creating the effect of suspension from the transition from slow to fast. The movements exhilarated her, feet engaging once again in the dance as John lead her round the room like a tornado.

'That transition, from the very slow and calm movements to fast and upbeat again has to be perfect. It has to create a surprising jump for the audience, one that isn't expected. You should spin out like fire, yes? Control your action as I spin you.'

She nodded, thoughts only touching the surface of her mind as they came to the much awaited close of their dance. She jumped into his arms, him cradling her and spinning around, making her feel dizzy. When he put her down he immediately launched her backward, finishing the sequence with heads inches apart. His whole body was parallel to his, with her right leg between and hooked round his thigh once again. Clara could feel his eyes search her face for a moment and finally let her back up.

'That was very good.' He told her sincerely, his hand still placed at the small of her back.

Clara smiled in return, his mouth twitching into something similar. And then he grabbed his bag, giving her a wider grin and he turned away from her, walking out the door. He was a different person when she danced with him; not the rude, arrogant man she had seen this morning and all others. Hopefully he'd relent on his tight schedule but she couldn't be wholly sure. He was still so irrevocably unpredictable.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Clara entered the massive theatre area, breathing in the scent of performance and grandeur she loved so dearly. Until she spotted a figure onstage, dancing by himself. She smiled, arms folding. He was so concentrated on what he was doing he hadn't seen her yet, and she stood there for a while, just admiring him. He seemed so comfortable up there, so connected and emotionally tied with the dance and the stage. He was a real performer, an inducing one at that, someone you wouldn't dare to take your eyes off for one second. She could only imagine how captivated the audience could be in his sweltering presence. His whole body was so in line and perfect, like he was doing martial arts, not one step or movement out of place. His legs beheld striking passion and extension, his hips swaying to music resounding only in his ears. His arms were, as she now fully noticed, thin but strong, leaner rather than bulky. She decided she liked the look much more than the bulging muscles she usually saw on men. He was barefoot, feet brushing the stage, and wore flared black trousers that looked much better on him than she had ever seen them on anyone else. A firm black belt held them in place and he wore a white vest top with a chain round his neck that she hadn't seen previously. He also wore a red bandana round his forehead, just underneath his curls that erupted uncontrollably.

'Are you taking me back to the cowboy ages with that dance?' She asked, loud enough for him to hear. He smirked, beginning to reach toward the cloth and untie it.

'No, no, keep it. Believe it or not, the bandana suits you.' She laughed. His eyes followed the stage, considering for a moment before he spoke.

'Why don't you come up here?' He said, gazing at her suddenly. She once again felt like his stare was whittling her down to a little girl in awe of a deity. His posture was so that she was beginning to actually find the way he stood attractive. Not to mention that curly hair...but she had already mentioned it. That was the problem. She walked toward him, the lights bearing down on her, shining directly into her pupils. He smiled, taking her hand.

'Feels good, doesn't it?'

She nodded, taking everything in.

'Yeah. Always have been.'

He turned her toward him. 'I keep forgetting you're used to it. You don't act experienced at all, if you don't mind me saying.'

She snorted. 'Listen here cowboy, you can stop underestimating me like I'm a trainee and respect that I've got as much damn experience as you, with your perfect legs and perfect arms doing perfect ballroom dances!'

She cursed the way she had found him so attractive moments ago and how she'd forgotten how much he infuriated her.

He simply just chuckled, taking both of her wrists gently this time yet she didn't have the heart to let go.

'You're perfect.' He said.

Clara didn't know if she was hearing him correctly.

'Excuse me?'

'You're a perfect dancer. The best I've ever danced with.'

'Maybe that's because you've only danced with beginners?'

'Nope. Danced with all sorts. Beginners, professionals, even Donna before she screwed up her back. None of them compare to you. Even when they specialised in this type of dance. And you're especially amazing when you lose your temper.'

She shook her head. 'Why are you so confusing?' She pondered, only to realise she'd spoken aloud.

'Take my hand.'

She obliged, as his own slipped round her waist. Their movements flowed together, some improvised yet learned from their dance. Suddenly it wasn't about the light beaming down at her; it was just his glances, the way he spun her into him so close she could feel the best of his heart.

'Why are you here, after hours? Isn't it supposed to be locked up after a certain time?'

He spun her around. 'I could say the same for you.'

'I asked first.'

'I often practice outside hours. Mostly whatever chance I get.'

'Don't you have a bookshop to look after?'

'My friend looks after it mostly, to be completely frank. I just sleep in the building. Apart from that, I'm always here.'

'Why do you practice so much? Why do you stick to such a confined, ruled schedule?'

'Enough questions about me,' he told her, spinning her out again to what she knew was avoidance of eye contact, 'tell me why you're here.'

She did owe him that, at least. His holding back interested her a lot, although she decided to stifle her burning inquisition for the time being. She knew what it was like to get pestered.

'I kind of wanted to sneak up onto the stage, actually. Do a few ballet dances, see what it would be like to perform on this stage.'

'You said you did the nutcracker and swan lake.'

'Yeah, I did. It was amazing. Have you ever toured?'

'Yes, once. Mostly stayed here, though.' Something about the way his eyes dropped for a second made her realise that he probably had a long history of failures and disasters.

'Why the sad memory?' She decided to press further, know her partner a little better than just the weight of his hands.

'Met my first love on that very first dance tour. Never worked out. It was actually only a bit of a fling. I didn't really recognise that until the tour ended. I never spoke to her again. But it's not like I pined for her or anything, I was just...disappointed. You been let down like that in your life?'

'My boyfriend, few years ago now. I thought we had something, it was actually an affair. He was cheating on his girlfriend for me and I had no idea.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. He was an asshole, anyway.'

'I guess we've had our fair share of relationship fails.'

'I thought you would have more...experience.' She didn't want to sound rude but she was sure it was impossible for a man like him not to have caught any other attention in his lifetime, even now.

'Age sometimes doesn't mean experience, Clara. I've learned that the hard way. Been dancing here for over twenty years, just after Donna decided to take it over as a dance practice. She was a young girl in her twenties then, I was around mid thirties, can you believe it. Brown curly hair and everything.'

'Same eyebrows?'

He smiled, twirling her yet again, 'same eyebrows.'

They danced alone together for what seemed like ages, much more relaxed than their usual day routines. He even lifted her a couple of times, but she only focused on him. Neither of them took notice on anything outside the bubble they were in, enclosing them from reality while they drifted off into a world of their own. Clara hadn't felt so connected and tied to a partner as she did with John, and it felt like she was about to embark on an adventure every time she was with him, just by looking into his enchanting eyes. Clara admitted to herself, even his curls didn't compare to such beautiful, mesmeric eyes. She had always had a thing for them, always judged a man by his eyes, but John's were like nothing she'd ever seen. Light blue when she looked close enough, green in different lights and positions. She felt like she was falling, falling into them as he whirled her around the stage...

'Oi!'

A familiar voice broke them from their reverie and burst their bubble. They stood side by side, like children being caught doing something they shouldn't by their mother.

'You aren't supposed to be here!' Donna called to them, and John smiled guiltily.

'Sorry, Donna. Now on our way out.'

'You better be.'

She turned on her heel and walked out. Clara hadn't seen such a ferocious side to her personality, but John was laughing.

'She doesn't mean it, by the way,' he said, taking her hand and leading her off stage, 'well, she doesn't want us here in these hours, but she's only playing. She doesn't mean to be cross, she's really funny actually. The funniest person I've ever met. If you see her in an actual temper you'd know the difference.' He chuckled again like he was replaying a memory.

They made it out to the cool, night air that whipped John's hair crazily in the wind and the sky turning midnight blue. Street lamps lit up the path and the usual hustle and bustle of people going by made it even more peaceful.

'It's 11 o'clock, would you believe it?' He said, looking down at his watch.

'I think we definitely lost track of time.'

'Yeah.'

They stood there on the streets, John wrapping a long frock coat over his bare arms, neither of them saying their goodbyes. Clara eventually smiled, nudging his arm.

'Come on, Mr Disco, I'm hungry.'

He raised his eyebrows at her.

'Chips and coffee,' she continued, beginning to walk down the opposite side of the street.

'There's a McDonald's up here, I believe.'

He chuckled, following her.

'Chips and coffee it is, then.'


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

'So, when did you decide you wanted to be a dancer?' She asked, sipping her coffee frappe and watching him with interest. She wanted to know more about his past, about what made him, him. Maybe this was why she never got a date. She asked too many questions.

'Well, back when I was a boy, not many people really considered dancing a real profession. My three brothers always mocked me for it. They found it silly that I wanted to do something so...girly. It was my dream to be up on stage, as early as four years old. But my parents wanted me to be a doctor, one of the jobs I wouldn't have minded doing. Anyway, graduated, got my doctorate, started out a practitioner but when I got to the age of 23 I decided it just wasn't me. So I took lessons, enrolled into a school, and did dancing full time. Managed a book business in the meantime more or less, and started touring with my company at 27. I'd fulfilled every dream I had ever wanted. I didn't need any other sort of domestic life, like my family expected of me. You know the drill, get married, have kids, blah blah blah. I couldn't be bothered with any of that.'

'I admire that. I was the same, really. Mother found it impractical, my grandma was the only one who told me to go for it. I had struggles doing it at first, most dance academies didn't want or need me but I finally got into one. Ballet was just my dream, and at 25 I started touring, like you.'

He nodded, downing his coffee cup and running his hands through his hair.

'I think I might need another drink.'

'I'm with you on that.'

They got another round of coffee, whiling away time with conversation. The more he talked, the more she liked him. He wasn't all bite and no grin like she had first perceived.

The next day and John greeted her with a smile, which gave her a little more confidence. However, she noticed that he was actually grinning too wickedly to be considered normal. He was also wearing sweatbands round his wrists.

She looked him up and down, an expression of 'what the hell are you doing' clear on her face.

'Come on, Clara.' He encouraged, leading the way out of the studio.

'Woah, where are you going?'

'Clara...don't get pissed.'

'Why not?' She asked, this time a tad menacing.

'We're hitting the gym.' He smiled. She wanted to slap that grin straight off his face. So many emotions he emanated, so many confused feelings toward him from one moment to the next. He could be a caring, even gentle, soul, but the next second he could be an insufferable twat.

'What?'

'Clara, the next dance is the salsa and you're going to need a workout. The amount of hip action you have to deal with is laughable,' he actually chuckled at his mirth, 'so glad I'm not a woman.'

He strode out the doors, Clara following strictly at his heels.

'You're kidding.' She groaned.

'Why would I joke about something as serious as this? Clara, I don't want your body hurting for the rest of the week.' he wiggled his eyebrows at her, which earned a smack round the arm.

'Alright, alright,' he surrendered, still giggling.

'Ugh, I can't believe I have to do a workout for my hips.' She said, disgusted.

'Agh, you're hips a fine, you're built like a man.'

That was it. John's outburst of irrepressible laughter at his comment caused her to chase him down the corridor until she landed a deserving punch to his shoulder.

'Say that again, I'll detach something from you.'

He stared down at her, arching one eyebrow and smiling politely.

'Yes, ma'am.'

There was still laughter in his eyes, which she appreciated. But his layabout mood was confusing her tenfold.

Once she saw John on the treadmill, her mind was completely side-tracked from what she was supposed to he doing. They had been there an hour already, but Clara still hadn't moved on from the rowing machine. She sat on the uncomfortable plastic seat, her hands on the chain yet not concerned with actually moving herself along. John was running at full speed, his legs almost invisible as they bounded back and forth like bullets. She could faintly hear him panting and she smiled at his exertion. John rarely grew out of breath while dancing, yet it was a full spectacle to observe here to her amusement. He finally slowed to a stop, sweat patches on his shirt and glistening on his arms.

'Age catching you up?' She asked, still watching him breathe heavily.

He gave her a glare and the obscene gesture of his finger, to which she laughed at in reply.

He stepped off the machine and raked a hand through his hair, smiling at her. For once she thought, he didn't know he was subconsciously drawing her attention to his attractive state.

'Try that too.' He told her, jerking a thumb backward to the dreaded machine itself, 'gets your heart racing.'

She rolled her eyes but proceeded toward the conveyor belt. He leaned relaxedly on the handle in front of her as she began a jogging pace.

'Come on, you can do better than that.' He teased.

She gave him a trying smile, pushing the button so the belt accelerated. Her legs went faster, heart pounding as John tested her further by repeatedly pushing the button until she swatted his hand away irritably. He almost doubled up in laughter at her attempt to keep running. She started to grow hotter and knew her cheeks were burning up, cursing mentally at him as she could hardly speak from the pace she was going. Finally, after keeping it up for as long as John was impressed, she stopped, almost collapsing at the sharp, ragged intake of breath after her workout. His arms enclosed round her stomach and he lifted her in between the equipment, legs bouncing up and down and their laughter and Clara's protests drowning out the rest of the gym. He set her down after glares from other people and she looked up at him, shaking her head.

'Why are you in such a funny mood today? Did the coffee and chips from last night go to your head?' She giggled.

'This is just another side to my persona, Clara. I'm not always annoying and strict. You know that, right?'

'Depends. I tend not to listen when you're grouchy.' She said, taking hold of his shoulders.

'Wise idea.'


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

'Now,' he clapped, getting her attention immediately from the daydream she had been stuck in, 'the salsa, a quirky little number from 70's New York, and it has to be as spicy as the sauce. Fiery, sharp, electric. Understand?'

'Go on.'

'It's in 4/4 beats, 8 counts. The reason I got you to the gym was seriously to work on your thighs. With every move in a salsa, you want to sway your hips slightly, even if it's just a simple step forward or back. The trick to the salsa is always to keep moving your hips. That's where the fire comes from.'

'Do you mind demonstrating?' She remarked. Clara was shocked to find her tone almost flirtatious.

He said nothing but lifted an eyebrow, and took her hand in his. Every time he stepped his hips swayed and careened to every corner of space between them until Clara had lost focus and stared at him in admirable awe. It was heated to the point of sexy. Although Clara couldn't think straight she knew that thought was one she couldn't bring up again. He was older than her, by a considerable number of years.

'Can you do the twist?' She couldn't resist, she was contradicting herself but wanted to test his ability. It seemed she wasn't disappointed. With a mischievous smile he let go and started twisting, shaking his hips and grinding his feet along the floor, going lower and lower until he was crouching. He straightened, and she clapped her approval.

'It's very hard to get as low as that. I practiced that for years.'

'I bet you did.'

The corner of his mouth twitched to a smirk, and took her in practice position.

'We'll start like we did the tango,' he explained, 'practice the steps, feeling the beat of the music, the rhythm. Because we're smart asses and we never take the easier option we'll be going on 2. So 1 is held, you step on the 2, okay. Always the 2. 3,4 and hold 5. And as usual, 6,7,8. Should be easy. Count and remember to stop and breathe on the 1 and 5. Ready?'

Once she was confident of her steps and of the music, they moved on.

'This is the closed dance position.'

He took her right hand in his left, and his other on her left shoulder blade. He then rested her left arm over his right to reach his own shoulder.

'It is almost like we are locked.' He said, 'our hands clasped together like normal and then our other arms touching each other's on a horizontal plane.'

'Your posture plays an important role too, of course,' he continued, 'you have to keep your upper body completely straight and stiff, your spine should be rigid. Your hips, however, stay loose. It is essential you keep within this frame. That way you get much cleaner and sharper movements.'

Clara did as she was told, her body freezing into position. She was also reminded from their tango dance that her chin should be raised. John nodded in confirmation and she suddenly felt proud that she was meeting his every expectation.

'I noticed too, only slightly, that your posture does sometimes unravel into your more natural ballet position, which is fine because you're all good and straight, but you tense up a lot. You've got to maintain it but stay calm and relaxed. Otherwise it looks forced.'

It was exactly like John to severe her winning streak.

'Okay.'

'We'll start on the 2, begin to travel with our movements.'

As the music started she loosened herself as much as she could, but in her concentration she stepped on the 1.

'Try it again.' He said, covering her right foot with his own.

'What are you doing?'

He counted her in, keeping his foot on the 1 and freeing it so she stepped on the 2. She continued on until he did the same for the 5.

'We'll be doing that for 2 counts of 8, and then I'll spin you. You do a slow solo turn, moving on the second beat. Got it?'

She nodded, knowing exactly the type of move he was envisioning. She did a turn, John rounding her and clapping his hands to the beat when he took her hand again.

'Now, I'm gonna turn the other way, and duck my head under your arm to the other side. As I turn back round to you, I'm going to dip you slightly to the right, so bend your back and neck a little. Ready?'

He did as he promised, using her arm to appear on the other side wickedly fast and facing her again. She could feel his hand supporting her as her head fell back.

'Once you're back up, you're going to do a series of spins while travelling. I'm sure that's exactly your expertise.'

She smiled. 'Definitely.'

She spun like a tornado, round and round, unwavering, John's hand holding hers above her head.

'Excellent. When you eventually stop spinning, my hand will come down to my waist and you'll spin under it.'

'Do you choreograph all of this?' She asked.

'Yeah. Now do it.'

Yet as soon as she spun underneath, her feet tangled together and not only lead herself down, but John along with her. She couldn't stop laughing as John landed over her bewilderedly, his hand at the back of her head. She looked up into his eyes, body raised above hers and a grin contorting his features.

'You know that was bound to happen.' She stated, 'your arm came too low down.'

'It never.' He replied, finally helping her get to her feet, 'let's do it again.'

Seven hours in and they were a whirlwind around the studio, her heart beating with every step. John lead her around the room with that same enthusing passion and he seemed to smile wider with every movement they accomplished until the music stopped and they were left standing face to face, noses almost touching, both their right legs extended slightly and his hand pressuring her lower back. The pause deepened until only the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard.

'That was good for a first time.' He told her. She slowly drew apart, thanking him. Once free of her grasp he slid to the left, his feet going wild on the dance floor and spinning around to end up at the mirrors, where he picked up his bag.

'You're like Patrick Swayze.'

'Who?'

Her mouth fell open at his comment.

'You don't know who Patrick Swayze is? I thought you were alive in the eighties! The guy from Dirty Dancing.'

He walked past her, holding his bag over his shoulder.

'Never seen it.'

'What?' She cornered him, dumbfounded.

'I've heard of it, just never watched it.'

'How could you not have seen Dirty Dancing?'

'Clara, I do dance, not watch dance.'

'Right, you're coming round mine. I need to educate you.'

'Seriously?'

'Seriously. It's a number one priority.'

'Do I have to?' He whined.

'Of course John, I'm not going to let you live the rest of your life without watching it.'

He sighed in defeat. 'Fine.'

'Turn up at 7.'

'I can't believe this.' He said, pacing down the steps to the high street.

'Its your own fault for not watching it.'

'You, Clara Oswald, are the bossiest person I have ever met.'

'Pleased to make your acquaintance.'

'Will I actually enjoy it?'

'You'll be happy I compared you to Patrick Swayze.'

He rolled his eyes.

'Fine, I'll see you later then.'

'Suit and tie?' She teased.

'Fuck off.'

He turned his back, walking away from her. Her laughter could still be heard at the end of the street.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A few hours later and her stomach lurched when the doorbell rang. Clara couldn't tell what had made her invite him round her house, but she could hardly turn him down now. Unlocking the door he stood there awkwardly, and it was oddly surprising to see him in casual clothes. He wore tight fitting trousers and a holey jumper, paired with doc marten type boots.

She raised an eyebrow, letting him in. He respectively hung his frock coat up and proceeded to the sofa.

'I noticed a motorbike down there. Is it yours?'

'Yes. Most people say I'm not badass enough to own a motorbike or fly a plane because I'm a ballet dancer.'

'Wow. Anyone who owns a motorbike and can fly a plane is pretty badass to me.'

His comment put a twinkle in her eye.

'Nice place you have here.'

'Thanks. It's small, but cosy enough.'

His eyes swept round the flat, marvelling at the pictures on the wall, inspecting the old-fashioned fire grate and bookshelves beside the TV.

'Let's get this over with then.'

She smiled, handing him a cup of tea and jumping onto the sofa herself.

'What's this?' He asked disgustedly as she laid the pizza box on the table. She reached for a slice and took a bite, offering him some.

'This is bad for you. You can't be eating this, Clara!'

'Oh come on, it's a Saturday. I've been good all week.'

'You should be eating healthily. Protein shakes.' He said, putting the dreaded bottle on the table.

'Not a chance. If you don't want pizza I'll eat it all myself.'

'Fine, but it won't help you with your strength. Protein shakes can do you so much good Clara.'

'You and your protein shakes, could you stop for just one minute obsessing over them and have a slice of goddamned pizza?'

He did as commanded, quieting down.

She nodded victoriously.

'You may be the leader of the dance, but you do as you're told in my house.'

He chuckled, nibbling his slice and catching her eye.

John finally relaxed against the cushions, watching the screen. As soon as he saw Patrick Swayze he snorted.

'Yeah, that's a weird choice of comparison. I definitely don't look like that.'

'But you have the same flare. You're both charismatic and you dance the same way.'

He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes yet again. She knew deep down he was secretly pleased.

She noticed the way he flicked his feet, played with his thumbs, moved his lips slightly to the music as if he was counting the beats. She realised he never got out from the studio or stepped down from the stage, not really. John was always part of a dance, be it mentally or physically. When he saw her looking over her eyes averted to the screen and a conceited smile played on his features. Jerk. She stared at his callused fingers resting by the side of them and noticed a signet ring on his finger. Why hadn't she noticed it before? It gleamed up at her and for just one second she began to wonder if he hadn't told her everything. Curiosity finally got the better of her.

'That's a nice ring.' She pointed out.

He raised his eyebrows surprisedly.

'You want to know if I'm secretly married. I told you, I've been on my own for practically my entire life.'

'Someone must have been important to you.'

He sighed in defeat, looking down at the ring with a sadness in his eyes.

'My brother. One of them passed away. It was actually his engagement ring but he gave it to me just before he died. He told me it was lucky and I'd find someone. It hasn't quite worked yet.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's fine, that was over ten years ago now.'

They fell awkwardly silent, turning back to the TV, and Clara couldn't help but curse herself for thinking he had lied to her. Anyway, what would she care if he was married anyway?

Their awkward silence soon grew to normality and John spoke out randomly.

'So if I'm Johnny, does that make you Baby?'

Clara almost choked on her pizza. He had no idea what he was saying. She was fairly sure when they came to it he would realise it had been a complete mistake. She couldn't even look at him anymore and didn't reply at all. Knowing what happened between those two characters later on in the film made the situation even more awkward and Clara cringing inside. She wouldn't be able to watch it in the same way now.

Sure enough, when the moment came John stared horrified at the TV screen and the realisation of what he had said kicked in.

'Clara, I never meant-'

'Its fine.' She said, laughing at his expression.

'I'm just your instructor.'

'I know.'

He was still appalled and embarrassed at the idea but he soon settled down.

'What did you think?' She asked, after the film ended.

'It was alright. Not what I expected but good ending.'

'Don't lie, I know you secretly love it.'

'Yeah, of course.' He said sarcastically.

He noticed the empty box and started another of his rants on healthy eating. Clara only half listened and watched him amusedly.

Suddenly his eyes were on hers and she was once again entrapped, transported to another world. Why did they always have such an effect on her? She could feel him drawing closer, or was that her? Too close. She grasped the protein shake and thrust it right in front of his face, his eyes crossing at the shock and gladly accepting the bottle.

'Uh, thank you.'

Nothing else could stifle the awkward tension in the air, she was sure they had been literally inches from kissing. It was awful to comprehend, and she could tell John was feeling the same way. Kissing him was out of the question. The age gap for starters was unnatural. Never mind that it was John Disco and he annoyed her greatly.

He glanced at his watch, claiming it was half nine.

'I should go,' he explained, rising from the sofa. She couldn't hide the tiny part of her that was just a little bit disappointed. He made his way toward the door and wrapped his navy coat round his thin frame.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Yeah.'

'And, uhm, thank you for letting me stay.' He said politely.

'No problem. Glad I could introduce you to a good film. Just one question before you go,' she leaned against the doorframe, smile playing at her lips, 'do you like watching Strictly Come Dancing?'

He looked at her with a mockingly dangerous glint in his eye, and slowly shook his head in disgust without saying a word. He turned away and as soon as she shut the door every single regret about not kissing him plagued her mind until she couldn't think straight anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Her mind had constantly been in flux throughout the course of the day, one moment wishing she had kissed him and the next repulsed by the very thought. It was true she liked older men, she had a huge crush on Johnny Depp but with John her brain was so much more confused, conflicted. She felt like he was too beyond her, too much, too old. What was the saying, listen to your heart? She could definitely affirm she ignored the statement.

All of this imploded inside her mind like a torrent as she scrambled out of bed and made way toward the kitchen. Why was it so complicated? They were friends. They had started out as dance partners and ended up friends. She decided that was enough for her. Befriending John Disco was probably an impossible feat in itself. Clara carried it with her for the rest of the day.

'We're going shopping.'

'Okay, that was something I never thought would come out of your mouth.'

'Basically for your dress. You need four of them.'

'Four?!'

'Yes, four dances, four dresses, keep up.'

'Fine.'

'Let's go, then.'

Following him out of the building she noticed the chain once again round his neck. Along with the ring she probably guessed it was something personal and decided not to ask. The last time she had sensed the tiniest bit of hurt in his voice at her assumptions.

They got the bus into town, John graciously sharing an earphone with her.

'Is it all rock music on your phone?'

'Mostly. Why, do you have a problem with that?'

'No, but do you have any other genre?'

'Metal.'

'Really? I didn't peg you as a metal fan.'

'What did you 'peg' me as, then?'

'Something mysterious. You've been like that from the beginning.'

'Its just my characters.'

'Sometimes I wonder if you're able to differentiate between the character you play when you dance and yourself.'

He turned, staring quite plainly at her. He didn't reply but acted oblivious. She admired the way his impossibly untameable hair sparkled in the sunlight pouring directly through the filtered windows. She rested her legs on the opposite seat the same way he had and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Clara felt almost intimidated by the array of colours on display as she stepped into the shop. John

bounded straight in, rifling through the racks of clothes. She approached some, finally picking out a one strap blue dress that she showed immediately to John.

'Horrible.' He commented, returning back to his own choices.

'Since when did you know a lot about fashion?'

'I am very fashionable, actually.'

She snorted. 'What, plaid trousers and a frock coat? That's certainly questionable.'

'Other people seem to like it. I do.'

'Yes, well unless you're going to dance in a dress I'm picking my own.'

'Come on, Clara, just consider these ones.' He said, waving her over to his side.

She observed the dresses carefully, biting her lip. They were actually all really nice, exactly the kind of thing she liked and something she wouldn't mind dancing in. Damn him for being so smart ass.

'Yeah, alright then, you have good taste in dresses, at least. I still wouldn't want you compiling my wardrobe.'

He smiled smugly at her and Clara cursed for degrading herself. She hardly ever let her pride be diminished or overruled. It just didn't happen. And yet here he was, the counterweight of herself, so different.

'Go try them on.' He suggested, offering the dresses to her. She realised his mood had turned more serious as he gave a much more sincere smile to her, which made her do it.

'Are they all in my size?'

'I don't know, I chose a random size. Big enough to fit your manly thighs.'

She whacked him on the arm, John laughing at her attack.

'Alright, alright. A 10.'

'Thank you.' She turned on her heel, walking toward the dressing room.

'Come out and show me.' He called, as she began to take off her clothes. She liked wearing them a lot but not showy dresses. They were uncomfortable for her and only for night out occasions. As she slipped it on she instantly wished she was back in her leotard. It felt too open, to free. With her leotard every move felt ruled and under her control. Clara opened the door to see John sitting there expectantly and his eyes widen as she leaned sheepishly against the doorjamb.

'You look beautiful, Clara. That one's perfect for the salsa.'

'Really?' She whispered. She couldn't help biting her nails with nerve. Somehow standing there before him in a dress unsettled her.

'Yes. I wanna see more.'

She laughed. 'Okay, Mr. Flirt.'

'Clara-'

'Yes, I'm just joking, old man. It's good to get my own back.'

The next dress she tried on she liked even more and John once again approved.

'Is it just me, or are these dresses getting shorter?'

She stared down at the hem of the dress hanging high above her knees.

'No, you want more diversity in dress. Especially as each dance is diverse and different too. I'm thinking mambo on this one.'

'Oh, so you finally made a decision?'

'Yeah. The paso doble I think is just a little bit too aggressive for your own taste.'

'I wouldn't be so sure. You haven't even seen me in a full flaming temper tantrum.'

'Remind me to never be in the way of one of those.'

'Hmm.'

She turned, John noticing her bare, exposed skin.

'Its backless.'

'Yep.' She told him confidently, smiling to herself as his eyes fixed on her back.

'This one is way too tight, John!' She exclaimed, while he burst into laughter. The material clung to her thighs and her chest was tenaciously close-fitting. She tried adjusting it but it only made John laugh harder.

'Is this some kind of a joke?'

'I must admit, I did wonder how that would look on you.'

'Cheeky bastard. Do you want another whack?'

'I'm finding it really hard to take you seriously in that.'

'Maybe a punch where it hurts the most, then?'

'Clara, you look absolutely amazing.' He replied mockingly.

'I look like I've been in too many nightclubs. This is hardly a dance dress.'

'Yeah, I know. Go put your normal clothes back on.'

She thankfully took off the awful dress and sighed relievedly when she was back to normal. John stood up when she came back out, taking the pile from her.

'All of these were perfect. I think you can agree, can't you?'

'For an old man with no fashion sense I'd say so. Except the last one. That was going just a little too far, John.'

'My apologies.'

He strode toward the counter while she hung back. She couldn't help contemplate the unusual circumstances she had been in, almost like they were compromised. John had now seen the most part of her short legs and her cleavage, which she admit she hadn't been expecting. It was weird to think he had been the one to set it up. What really, had been his intention? Once he came up to her with a large shopping bag and smiled effervescently her brain became permanently confused.

Neither talked about it on the way home; John certainly didn't bring it up or act like anything had happened. All she knew was that he had in some ways took advantage of her as a woman and she wasn't okay with that. But it was hard. So very, very hard because one look would remind her of the friendship he beheld and his humour. The music playing in her ears now seemed extraordinarily accurate to how she was feeling. While they didn't say much she knew by the way his hand rested between his knee and hers that he valued every single moment of company she gave him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

'Its good to see you, at least except in passing.' Jack sat opposite her, taking a bite from a sandwich and giving her a cheerful grin, 'we don't seem to see you often. Probably busy, right?'

'Yeah. A lot's been happening. Hopefully I can hang out with you more, Jack, you're a cool guy.'

'You think so? I guess I am.' He said proudly.

It was one of those rare times she had eaten lunch at the canteen with someone as she usually went out to grab lunch. It was exactly what John was doing now, and after days of following his lead she had decided to eat with Jack. He was even funnier than she had thought and certainly a talented dancer.

'How's it going with all those dances, then?'

'Okay. John is a good teacher.'

'I know. He taught me the paso.'

'Why doesn't he-'

'He secludes himself. Never eats with us here, always alone. Well, now he has you. I think you might have actually improved his mood, Clara. Maybe you've been a good influence over him. Even I can see an improvement in his behaviour.'

She considered his speech, spinning her water bottle absentmindedly.

'I've gotten that so far. He's too strict sometimes. Schedules, healthy eating, exercise. It's too much sometimes.'

'Yeah, that's practically his whole life. As far as I know he doesn't have any other hobbies except his bookshop and gets here earlier than everyone else and leaves later than necessary. His whole life is his dancing. It's why he's never been with anyone else. He doesn't have time for a relationship, or a job, or an activity.'

She nodded, thinking these things through, suddenly realising the full extent of his obsession.

'I'm warning you just in case, Clara, stay careful around him. He is a nice man at heart, but tricky. If he ever confuses you with random moods and contradictory actions it's because he can't handle his own emotions. I think sometimes he doesn't even know how to feel, or how the things he does affects other people. I went on tour with him once and he was all over the place. So just be careful, because it can be misleading when he's feeling one thing and telling you another.'

Clara finally understood, finally realised. John was erratic, a perfectionist and over-analyst, living in a dream world. What Jack had just told her made so much sense. She stared up at him, noticing how safe she felt under his bright gaze, how John's stare contrasted and made her feel dangerous, like she was on an adventure with him.

'Who should be careful of who?'

Clara turned, startled, to see John standing above her. She hoped her face wasn't too guilty but she couldn't help her broken, staggering voice.

'No one. Me and Jack were just talking.'

'Yeah, I can see that. Now, let's go, we're doing the rhumba.'

Clara rolled her eyes briefly at Jack who smiled, and walked out with John.

'Remember Clara, rhumba is three words,' he reminded her again, holding up his fingers, 'slow, passionate, and sexy.'

Clara tried to focus but every time he spoke her frame melted and her mind kept repeating everything Jack had said to her.

She moved herself back into position, feeling John behind her, his neck almost perched on her neck as she twisted her feet and swayed her hips from side to side. John's hands rested on her thighs and she couldn't help the blush in her cheeks as he came to look at her. Clara knew this was the dance she would be dreading, the one too intimate for her taste. She spun on her heel dramatically, now facing him as she quickly embraced him. His hands were wrapped tight round her shoulders and her face rested in the crook of his neck. For one second she could smell the faint scent of aftershave and cologne. It infected her nose, lingering there. He smelled so nice. She almost forgot to breathe as he bended her upper torso backwards and with sharp clarity she fell back into his arms again, inhaling that scent.

'Good. Now, do you trust me?'

Clara felt a little taken aback at the question, her conflicted mind battling over whether she truly trusted him or not. But as she looked into his eyes she found herself answering impulsively.

'Yes.'

He smiled widely at that.

'I'll be standing right behind you, Clara, okay?'

'What are you doing?' She asked suspiciously.

'Now fall.'

'What?'

'Fall. Don't worry, I'll catch you.'

'And if you don't? Can't we at least get a crash mat?'

'No, because it won't matter whether you have one or not. Fall back.'

She took a deep breath, raised her arms and allowed herself to free fall. At the very last moment he caught her, body almost parallel to the ground. He only held her head and he pushed it back up so she stood up straight again.

'Told you, didn't I?'

'I didn't know you were only catching my head.'

'Well that's the whole point isn't it? From the audience's point of view, it will look almost like an illusion.'

'At least it will look good for the audience, whether I die or not.'

'Hey, ssh, I'm going to catch you.'

'Good.'

'Now you're going to be dancing in heels.'

'Ugh.'

'Come on, better to be practising earlier than later.'

'Can I take a quick break, then?'

'Clara, we have to stick to schedule-'

'Fuck your schedule for a minute, John. I'm getting a drink.'

'Not an alcoholic one, I hope.'

'Come with me, just take a break with me.'

'No, I need to keep going-'

'Don't start this again, John, I'll just get mad. You can't just keep on dancing without a break, that isn't just dedication, that's control freak.'

'Takes one to know one.'

Clara threw him a glare. He smiled knowingly.

'Fine.' He said, following her out the doors. Once hydrated, she felt much better.

'Why are you so strict about dancing?'

'Just the way I am. Plus, there's only 2 and a half months left until the show, so yes, effort, skill and performance is what I want. I don't want to be stressed about it anymore, I want to stay in control as much as I can so the dances are perfect.'

'Yes, but you don't need to deprive yourself for it! Keep the stress to a minimum, focus solely on the dances. I'd say we were doing pretty good at the moment, so you don't need to worry. I don't want you worrying.' She amended, watching his throat constrict with every breath. He looked straight ahead of him, hands clenching themselves.

'Come on,' she said, standing up and holding out her hand, 'let's get back to work.'

John smiled gratefully, and took it.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

'I can't do it!'

'Now, that's a word I didn't expect you to say.'

'But I can't, John!'

Clara was gradually getting frustrated and very impatient with the untameable heels on her feet. She was messing up every move that would have been perfect without the damned shoes.

'I miss my ballet pumps so much.'

'It's not so different is it?'

Clara shot him a glare that made him reconsider his question.

'Ballet flats are at least comfortable, light and easy to dance with. These are just difficult and awkward.'

'Look, Clara, you need to try.'

'I am trying.' She muttered menacingly. Her mood wasn't improving in the slightest and she had almost fell at one point. It was John's iron grip that held her up. She sighed in exasperation, falling against his chest.

'This is impossible.'

'Nothing is. And you're supposed to be my Impossible Girl, right? If you forget they're there it will become easier. Focus on the moves you're doing.'

'I can't focus because of these dreaded heels, I've been trying for hours. And I know all the moves inside and out instinctively.'

John stared a moment at her eyes, one of those chilling looks that made Clara constantly wonder whether he was being sympathetic or just wanted to tear her brains out. He walked past her, letting go of her hand.

'Let me show you something. Walk in a straight line.'

'How will that help?'

'Just do it, Clara.'

She walked toward him with as much grace and alignment as she could.

'Good, easy. See, you can walk in a perfectly straight line with them. If you can do that, you can dance.'

'That doesn't prove anything,' she laughed.

'Put some effort in. Try.'

With another sigh she took hold of his hands and started dancing. It didn't make any difference, however. They were still incredibly hard to dance in.

'Professional dancing should not be this hard to accomplish with heels and yet it is.'

'You're not concentrating. Look at me, look up. You need to speed your movements up.'

'Hey, you're not the one wearing them! They're much harder than they look so you can shut up about concentrating. Unless you want to have a go you're going to have to be patient.'

He arched a eyebrow.

'Fine then. I'll dance in them, show you how it's done.'

Clara snorted disparagingly. 'I'd love to see you try.'

'Let me teach you how to dance properly in them.'

'Go on, then.'

'I'll just get a bigger size. You have tiny feet.'

She could hardly say anything, her chest full of irritation. His jokes about her size were forever wearing her down. But then again she made jokes at him, too. It was like they were playing a game.

'Right,' he returned, holding up a pair of red heels, 'uglier than yours, but better for me.'

As soon as they were on she burst out laughing. He was towering over her now, and looked so silly she started taking photos of him.

'Hey, hey, hey, those pictures better not end up online. You can't put pictures of me online!' He pointed his finger at her and furrowed his eyebrows angrily.

'Of course not, Dorothy. They're just for me to keep, so whenever you drive me crazy I can look at these and remind myself of how utterly stupid you look in those heels.'

'I wouldn't talk if I were you, you give fashion a bad name.'

'Me? Look at yourself, old man,' she laughed, 'anyway, you give love a bad name.'

'Seriously? Did you seriously just quote Bon Jovi at me?'

'You quoted first.' She raised her eyebrows winningly. She had finally mastered the art of winding him up.

'Tango position, Clara. At this rate we'll never get to the end of the rhumba.'

'Chill out, Disco.'

He smiled coolly at her, and then they were dancing, music influencing their movements.

'How are you doing this?' She asked, watching his smug face at his perfect moves.

He didn't say anything until the dance was over.

'How did you just dance so amazingly with heels on?'

He winked. 'Practice. Would you believe me if I said I'd once danced as a woman before as a joke?'

'Why the hell can you do it and I can't?' It was slowly making her angry, the fact he as a man, could walk, dance and probably run better in heels than she could.

'Right then, let's dance.' She pulled on her heels and never took her eyes off his as they whirled round the studio with precise accuracy, timing, emotion. It was like she was barefoot again, her movements just as starling and powerful as they had been.

As soon as they finished, Clara's heart beating wildly against her chest and her hand resting on the side of his face, she felt truly proud of her performance.

'There you go, see? Determination, competition and a wind up. That's all you needed.'

'I guess so.' she said, as he straightened her back up.

'You good to go on to the salsa? We've got to do every dance so you can perfect it in heels and tomorrow we'll be starting the mambo.'

'Sounds good. Let's go.'

'Seriously?'

'Seriously.'

'Then we're away.'

Dancing with him made it easier to like him more, that despite all the childish arguments and advice from Jack, he was still just so enigmatic and exciting. He captivated her in ways, body language, dancing connectively like they were physically tied. Moments like this were to be cherished. It was just him and her, just John Disco and Clara Oswald in the studio, in their own dimension. He gave so much fluidity and body to the dance, like it was another person between them. Clara could dream while she was dancing with him, dream away like they were on a cloud, oblivious to reality. She realised that every time he smiled at her it went straight through her, making her stomach tie itself into knots.

Clara peered out of the window, hands resting on his shoulders.

'We stayed late again.' She confirmed.

'Of course we did.'

'At least we fit everything in, right?'

'Can't believe you just said that, but yes, we certainly did.'

'I'm so tired. It's your fault.'

'It's always my fault.' He grinned, following her out.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

She watched him storm away in a fiery temper, angrier than she had ever seen him before. He was shouting and cursing and pacing with that damned piece of paper in his hand. Clara could see comparisons with a volcano. As soon as he had no energy or power left he slumped into a chair with his hands cradling his face. She knew this was her cue.

Sliding down next to him she gently pulled apart his hands so his face could be seen, crimson and burning with fury. She herself didn't know how the news had bothered him so much but it had definitely struck a chord. Everyone was watching over them, Donna especially looking as pissed off as he was.

'This seriously can't be happening.' He told her, words mumbling and his eyes staring down at the table as if he willed them to break it.

'I don't see how this is so bad-'

'Oh, it is bad, Clara. After all the years I did the show and it's this fucking year they decide to intervene. This year, that looked so promising and spectacular, when I would be doing four perfectly choreographed dances with you and had gotten them down to a fine art, THIS is the year they want us to compete.' He rambled.

Clara could hardly make sense of what he was saying, so he simply handed her the crumpled paper in his clenched hand.

She looked concerningly down at the words as she felt him slump even more in his chair, looking defeated.

Her eyes scanned the paper, a letter from another dance academy claiming they wanted to take part in their show as competitors. She recognised now why it had made him angry.

'They want to rival against us with their own show at ours. We have always done the summer productions, always. They do theirs mostly around Autumn time, but they don't get as big an audience as we do.' Rose explained, mostly looking to her partner, who held her close to him with another solemn expression. She guessed they were an actual couple.

'Fact is, they've heard that we've been doing particularly well this year and want to dampen it with their own improved dances because ours are so good. It's basically a case of jealousy.' John said.

'How can we up our game then?' Amy asked.

'We focus solely on the performance and production of the show, make it spectacular. All the other dancers know their opening piece which is good. John chose well, it seems. We all get together to rehearse and practice earlier than usual to get a head start. Maybe this other academy aren't as prepared as we are.'

'Donna, if they weren't prepared, they wouldn't have sent us the letter.' Rory interjected, 'that doesn't seem right. They must have a good line up this year if they think they have a chance of matching us.'

'For once, Rory talks sense,' John continued, 'if they insist on trampling our show with their shitty dances we can get them out of the way first. If we all go last it will be a much bigger and better ending than their opening.'

'That seems a good plan, and not too unfair. If they are truly willing to cooperate they won't be able to have anything against that. It could be our one condition.' Donna said.

They all nodded in agreement, only noticing then that everyone else wasn't as furious as John was.

'See, we can resolve it. Why did you get so angry for?' She turned back to him. Everyone suddenly seemed still and silent as she awaited an answer.

'Because the leader of that dance group is Missy.' He explained.

'Who's Missy?'

'I'm the only one to know her. And trust me, she is a demon. A big cheater and a backstabbing bitch. I toured with her once, it was the biggest mistake of my life. If she comes back she'll find a way to ruin my life again and I don't think I'll be able to keep her still alive.'

Clara was shocked at his answer. He obviously had some very dark and entangled history with Missy but she was taken aback by his aggressive behaviour. Was she honestly that bad? It was only a dance competition after all. But she knew that it meant more to John than anything else did.

She glanced over at the window, bright sky and a shining sun all looking promising and inviting.

'Well, I think the first thing we should all do is take a day off from it all because we'll all go around worrying and won't think things through. Just one day off from dancing. Calm ourselves down.' She suggested.

Sarah Jane and Donna were the only ones that seemed to agree with her. Nine looked outraged. 'We can't just have a day off! The whole point of this is to start practising and making every dance better.'

'Yes, we need all the time we can get. We need to get this perfect, Clara. Absolutely perfect, like you. We need to beat them.'

There was such determination in his eyes that she almost gave in, and despite his compliment she could hardly anticipate another day of rigorous training now John had his sights set for winning. Only a week ago she had told him not to worry and relax about the whole thing. She had no idea it would lead to more pressure on his shoulders.

'I'm sorry guys, but I agree with Clara. Everyone go and have an extended weekend. God knows we all need it. We'll start back on it again on Monday, I promise. And if I catch anyone sneaking in here before Monday they and their partner will be permanently removed from the show. Got it?' Donna told them fiercely, looking at John meaningfully as a chorus of assent replied back. As she turned back to John she heard him slam his head on the table as everyone filed out.

'Come on, come with me. It's for your own good, John.'

Without saying a word he sulkily walked out with the rest of them, each pair going separate ways. As soon as they were outside in the flattering sun his eyes squinted and he started walking away from her.

'Hey, where are you going?' She caught up with him.

'I'm going home.' He mumbled miserably. He looked so out of place in such beautiful weather. She stopped him in the street, turning him round to face the park.

'Stay out here with me, John. I'll get some food.'

'Why?'

'Because you need cheering up. Come on.'

She lead the way and he obediently followed her.

'I don't deserve to be cheered up.'

'Why not?'

'Am I a good man, Clara?'

His abrupt question came with an answer she didn't have, his eyes staring intently into hers like his life depended on the outcome.

'I don't know. But I don't give up on friends that easily.'

'I wish I was more like that.'

Clara got a whole picnic of food, leading him to the grassy spot by the river. The calm breeze ruffled his stray curls and the sun warmed him immensely. Birds tweeted in their branches and the lake rippled calmly, a group of swans swimming peacefully. It was idyllic, something John had hardly felt about something before. Or maybe it was just the fact he was with Clara.

'I haven't been on a picnic for years.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. Can't remember the last time.'

'You should spend days here more often. You know, out in the open, not stuck indoors.'

'Maybe.'

His legs sprawled over the grass, lying down relaxedly as he began to eat a strawberry.

'Tell me why you detest this woman so much.' She began.

'Oh, Clara, you were doing so well already.'

She laughed, also laying amongst the grass, 'sorry. I kind of want to know so I can help you.'

He sighed, playing with a dandelion flower absentmindedly. Why did women always want to know about his past?

'She made me drop out halfway through a tour that was getting big at the time. Very popular, and I was a main lead. She wanted to be the star of the show and made me go home. It was the worst time of my life because that production really would have changed everything. It got quite famous.'

'I'm sorry to hear that. But how did she convince you to go?'

'She was fast becoming more than a friend,' he explained, until he suddenly started fiddling with his ring, 'and she killed my brother.'

'What!?' She cried, looking aghast.

'I only found out a couple of years ago. By that time I had no idea where she was and had no evidence to prove she was guilty. He was ill at the time though, he himself thought he was going to die. He gave me the ring because I was his favourite and he wanted me to be happy.

Amazingly he started to get better and he could return home. But a week before he was due to come back he curiously died in his sleep. No one could figure out how. I was on tour at the time and Missy was the one to tell me. She unhooked him from his life support machine. And I don't want to talk about it anymore so never bring it up again.'

Clara was speechless. She understood now just how angry he was and didn't say anything more on the subject. At least it had justified why he had been so mad at her and Clara knew that was him trying to control himself. She knew he would gladly kill her in return for what she had done. She knew she would.

He leaned forward, studying her. Everything he had already wasn't enough. Now they had competition he needed an edge. And no one could have worked better with him than Clara Oswald.

'Point is, we need something that will sell. That will give us a standing ovation.'

'Like what?'

Her hair blew out in the wind, framing her face perfectly and her eyes glinting from the light of the sun.

'Four isn't enough. What do you say we dance a fifth?'


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

'You're still insecure,' she told him, taking his hands in hers, 'stop shaking. I'm here, focus.'

She placed the palm of her hand until his dazed eyes had settled back on hers. The pressure of his intensity almost burned her inside out, as she took position.

'Yes. I'm sorry.'

'Don't be, this will be fine.'

'Okay.' His tone indicated his sudden dependence upon her and continuous reassurance. And she was happy to give him all the comfort he needed.

'Clara, if I hurt you, you must tell me you need to stop or take a break because these lifts are very hard.'

She put on a confident smile.

'Yeah, I will.'

'Ready?'

'As I'll ever be.'

Their eyes met tenderly for a second before she jumped into his arms and he lifted her above her head, Clara trying to keep her balance. Once she was put back down, the grin was hard to wipe from her face.

'You're my very own Patrick Swayze.'

He laughed. 'Hopefully I did it better than him.'

'Oh, you definitely did.' She nodded flatteringly.

'It wasn't too much?'

'No. At least, practicing it was hell. Actually doing it felt oddly...good.'

'Adrenaline. Ready for the rock and roll?'

'Yep.'

She stood extremely close to him, her body almost touching his. She wrapped her hands round his neck, feeling as intimate as she had with her last boyfriend. She closed her eyes briefly as his hands closed around her thighs and she jumped, legs landing on his left knee. He swung her round to his other side and then set her down again.

'That lift was popular in the 40's.'

'Yeah. I do like that one.'

'Right, next one, when you do the leaning back bit in the mambo, remember?'

'Yeah.'

John's hand wrapped itself round her upper torso, spinning her round.

'Keep your legs extended.'

'I can't believe we're doing so many.'

'It's important to do lifts when it's a showcase, Clara. We'll be closing off with this dance.'

Over the next few hours it was 'ready's? And 'go for it's' and the most complicated lifts she had ever had to do.

'Are you sure you want to carry on?' He asked, face full of concern as he stared at her flushed and sweaty face, her heavy breaths and aching bones.

'No, keep going. I'm okay.'

'Clara-'

'Do it, John. We only have a few more to do. Get the hardest one out of the way.'

He sighed, giving in.

'Please tell me to stop when you want me to, Clara.'

She nodded, as she jumped once more into his arms, cradling her until his hand pushed her body upwards and her arms came to rest on his shoulders. He could feel them tense as the pressure built upon his bones and he was almost shaking. Yet he maintained his frame, kept his core strong and applied so much force and strength to his arms to keep Clara from falling he was losing concentration.

'Splits.' He told her, her legs parting in midair as his hands held her waist. They were perfectly straight and in line, exactly how the loft was supposed to be performed.

'I'm taking my hand away now.' He told her, and with a sharp intake of breath one hand dropped from its secure position on her body and she balanced on only one holding her. As soon as his hand returned, she was supposed to turn round so her head was directly above his and legs still wide in the air. She was meant to face the ceiling like a starfish above his head on her transition downward, but none of it happened. Instead his shaking feet and desperation to hold Clara was overwhelming him so much he tripped up and she suddenly came tumbling down into his arms. Acting instinctively, he took hold of her waist and covered her head with his hands as he fell straight onto his back. Clara was on top of him, and they were both trying to keep their breathing under control. His heart was pounding inside his chest and he let out a sudden groan when she moved off him and his ankle started throbbing. It was his fault, he knew it. He had been trying to lift Clara in a position he hadn't properly achieved in years. Clara had held up her end perfectly, just like the amazing dancer she was, but he had been shaky and unstable. Pain coursed it's way to his brain, making it unbearable and his groans to become louder so he was nearly crying. It hurt so much, his whole foot feeling like it had been snapped in half itself. While he had sustained many injuries before, he hadn't for a while and the whole torturous déjà vu came back to him in a sudden rush of agony.

'Oh my god, John, I'm so sorry!' Clara wept over him, holding him and apologising over and over.

'I shouldn't have made you do it, I shouldn't have been so stupid. We both needed a bloody break and I ignored that-'

He smiled, taking her hand in his and kissing it lightly, 'it was my fault, Clara, not yours. You shouldn't have even trusted me with a lift like that. I haven't done it properly in years.'

'Why didn't you get a mat you idiot?' She exclaimed.

'Because I think in invincible when I'm not, Clara.'

His eyes spoke such sincerity it was frightening her. She peered down at his frozen foot.

'Can you move it?' She asked, suddenly taking hold of it and getting him to push against her hand, which he did limply.

'I'm sorry, we shouldn't have rushed into that lift.'

He shook his head as if to wave it off and in turn she helped him up. As she observed his weak foot she realised that it would have been her in pain if he hadn't protected her with his own body.

He let out a gasp as his back straightened up, and Clara immediately helped him. Her hand rubbed circles into his lower back when she turned his face toward her and stated plainly, 'I'm taking you to the hospital.'

'I'm fine, Clara, it isn't that serious.'

'If you can hardly walk and can't even straighten your back that means I'm taking you to hospital,' she protested firmly, her arm encircling his waist and letting him lean just a little bit on her.

'Donna!' She shouted down the hallway, and not long after the woman came walking down with wide eyes as she stared John up and down.

'I'm taking him to the hospital.' She told her, and she quickly agreed.

'What happened?'

'We were doing a lift...quite beyond us actually, and we fell. If it wasn't for John I'd probably be injured badly too.'

'It's my fault,' he repeated, 'Clara was too good for me.'

'Don't be silly,' she argued, and turned to Donna, 'can I borrow your car, I only have my motorbike.'

'Of course. Do you want me to take him?'

'No, it's alright, I will.'

She nodded. 'Okay. Keep me posted, and take care of him.'

Donna patted John on the shoulder as they walked past and as swiftly as they could, made it to her shiny blue car.

'I don't need help getting in!' He said, as Clara aided him into his seat.

'Yes you do.'

She revved up the engine until they were speeding down the roads and Clara was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.

'You seem more agitated about this than me.' He smirked.

'Because I don't like seeing you hurt.' She replied sharply, and pushed her foot harder on the pedal.

'You could go slower, at least.'

She didn't listen. Instead, it only made her go faster as he began to complain louder that it was throbbing too much.

Once they were there she hurried him into A&E, explaining everything that had happened.

'John Disco,' the doctor called his name, and Clara helped him up.

'Sorry,' she said again, watching his head fall into his hands despairingly.

'As if it couldn't have gotten any worse. I can't dance for three weeks and I still have Missy to worry about and the dances and the competition and letting you down-'

Clara took hold of his chin and turned it in her direction so she could see him better.

'Don't think for a minute you have or you will let me down. You couldn't help the fact you fell, but at least it wasn't anything worse. You're not letting me down and you won't let the show done either. Yes, we don't have as much practice as we did but it doesn't matter because I know you and I are going to smash it on the night. Stop beating yourself up for everything. You don't deserve it.'

He nodded half-heartedly, his mind still running over everything he could no longer do and his stupid foot.

'You need to rest now. Rest as much as you want for the next three weeks and don't you dare lift a toe until you're better. You need some time off anyway, John.'

'Not so close to the show I don't.'

She sighed. 'I know. But it can't be helped. All you can hope for now is a good recovery. You'll be the same after that, your foot will be fine and we can start dancing again as much as you want. I only insist you don't abuse your health.'

'Fine. But if the show is crap-'

'John, listen to me,' she said laughingly, 'the show won't be crap. I promise you.'

He looked down to the hand on his leg, and seemed to take her answer better and more thoughtfully.

'I'll get the bus back, don't worry.'

'What, are you sure?'

'Yeah, I'll be alright, Clara. You take Donna's car back to her and I'll go back home and rest, just like you said.'

'You sure you don't want me there?' He smiled softly in reply, kissing the palm of her hand, 'I always want you there Clara, but just this once I'd like to be alone. And I promise in return that I will jump straight into bed and never move a muscle.'

'Okay.' She agreed, walking him out to the bus stop.

As he stepped on, he looked back and smiled.

'Drive safely.'

And with that the doors closed and she was left there amongst the cars. She found Donna's and drove it back to the studio before taking her motorbike back home. As soon as she fell onto her own bed with a yawn her thoughts returned to John and how restless he would be right now.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah.'

'Does it still hurt?'

'A little bit.'

Clara dropped her head at his tone, so uneventful and empty than usual, when he was in the studio.

'I'm sorry.'

'Stop saying you're sorry. It wasn't your fault at all.'

Clara admitted she still felt bad, age should have realised when John had asked her to take a break that he needed it as much as she did. It seemed she thought John was as invincible as he did.

'Are you alright by yourself?'

'I'm fine, Clara.'

'Three weeks.' She sighed into the phone.

'I can't stop thinking about it. I've messed the whole schedule up.'

'John, don't start worrying about that again.'

She knew she had caught the bad side of his changeable idiosyncrasies. Clara had to try take his mind off it.

'What are you doing right now?'

'I'm in bed. It's wearing me down.'

'Are you completely immovable or able to walk?'

'Why?'

'Should I come round or do you want to come to me?'

'You seriously want to see me?'

'Yeah.'

'You're crazy,' he laughed, 'I can't think of anyone else who wants to spend time with me outside the studio.'

'Good. Now, should I come to you?'

'Don't come here.'

'Why not?' She teased.

'It's fine, I'll walk to yours.'

'You sure?'

'No, I'm just saying it for the sake of saying it.' He deadpanned.

'Shut up. See you in 10.'

'More like 20.'

He hung up, and she suddenly started to feel very pleased with herself. Shuffling out of bed, she grabbed a croissant from the kitchen and took a shower. The water calmed her down, like it was draining away every problem and worry she held. All she wanted to do was make his day better, give him some company. As she wrapped a towel round herself she heard a knock at the door.

'Shit.' She cursed, securing it tightly as she opened the door with a nervous smile. John's eyebrows shot upwards and he gave her an embarrassing grin.

'I'm sorry, shower overrun. I didn't know you'd be here so soon.'

'It's okay.' He stepped inside, taking his coat off. This time he was wearing a t-shirt and hoodie.

'Wait a second, I'll just get dressed.'

He nodded politely, laughing a little, and she left him in her bedroom. As soon as she started dressing she realised she'd left her clean top in her room. She felt incredibly awkward grabbing her t-shirt as his eyes widened and she quickly apologised.

'Uh, sorry. I left this here.'

John was still staring and Clara started to feel insecure as she was only wearing a bra and jeans. He seemed fazed for a moment and she wondered where his thoughts were taking him that second.

'John.' She snapped her fingers in front of his face, body closer to his than she had intended. For a moment he looked at her dreamily and she could imagine his arms pulling her closer, yet it was only an illusion. They both noticed only then that she was still in her bra and his face turned red as he quickly turned away. Clara raced off towards the bathroom bashfully and quickly changed, tying her hair up into a messy bun.

'I'm, uh, really sorry about that,' She said when she had returned, 'I should have told you to wait in the living room. I'm an idiot.'

'No, it's okay.' He said, scratching the back of his head. For some reason she had the urge to ruffle his delightfully fluffy hair. What was she doing? This wasn't going too well so far.

'So, why did you want me here?' He asked her.

'Wanted to keep you company. Why don't you want me round your house? You've been round here already.'

'I like this place, it's much better than mine, trust me. What do you intend to do, then?'

She sat down next to him, unable to think of anything else but his long eyelashes and iridescent eyes.

'Watch TV.'

'Well, it seems better than being stuck at home.'

'Its not crap TV though, it's TV shows.' She clarified.

'Sounds even better. I don't watch many of them, but I guess it's worthwhile only if I get to watch them with you.' He laughed.

Despite their embarrassing ordeal they were back to normal now, and Clara could tell he was in a good mood now. She propped up pillows and turned her TV on, leaning on him heavily, which he didn't seem to mind.

'Do you want a pillow for your foot?'

'Nah, it'll be fine.'

'I hope it gets better soon. Can't wait to start dancing again.'

'Me neither.'

For an hour or two they lay there together, John making her smile and laugh more than she actually watched the show. He ran a comical commentary throughout the program which had her in stitches, and John seemed pretty pleased he had gotten her attention. As the credits rolled he started punching her lightly and making her laugh uncontrollably.

'Stop!' She giggled, batting his hands away from her body. He didn't relent, finally discovering her weakness from being tickled. She almost got kicked and fell off her own bed from his antics, the third episode now forgotten.

'Leave me alone!' She laughed mockingly, climbing out and walking away from him.

'No, come back!' He called, following her out to the kitchen.

'Do you want something to eat?' She asked, and as she looked up she shook her head, 'Why are you recording me?' She looked up at the red light and stuck her tongue out at it.

'Because you are worth recording.' He followed her round the small kitchen, recording her making tea, accompanied by her every aspect of personality. He caught her smile, her laugh, her terrible jokes, even her hitting his arm away when he got too close with his phone. They were like two teenagers mucking around.

It had only just struck Clara after he replayed the video back how domestic they looked, like an old married couple acting like 19 year olds. Everything about it made her look upon their friendship fondly, something to be treasured along with the video.

'You're such a 5 year old kid.' She told him, as he started flicking her nose.

'I'm ill. I'm allowed to act weirdly.'

'You act weirdly anyway,' She giggled, 'stop flicking my nose!'

She retaliated by messing up his hair, finally smiling triumphantly.

'Hey, hey, hey, leave the hair alone. It's precious to me.'

'I don't care.'

'Your nose is so funny.'

'Your whole face is. Have you been drinking, John?' She chuckled.

'No.'

'What's gotten into you? On the phone you sounded still really grouchy and stressed with your foot and the dances and the competition and Missy. What's changed?'

'You have. You've made me forget about it for the first time. Don't bring it up.'

'Alright then.'

'Clara.' he said, suddenly taking her cup away from her mid sip, to which she stared at him angrily. Now he was breaking out of bounds. No one touched Clara Oswald's tea.

'You're such a good dance partner, I was wondering...you won't move on to another dance academy, will you? You'll stay with me as my partner, won't you?'

She could tell he had gone serious now, his tone steady and unwavering. She had to remind herself of his ever-changing behaviour, Jack's words entering her mind.

Clara had to consider for a moment on what he'd said. She'd already moved on from one dance group, what was stopping her from moving on again in a couple of years? Only this time she knew the answer to the question. John. He was so invested in her as a person and dancer already, to let him go would be like immigrating to another galaxy. She had only known him a few months yet she couldn't even remember what her life had been like before him. All her past memories, her touring, her childhood, her school experiences, all seemed blurred and unimportant. Since John had entered her life she had seen him almost every day and it was beginning to dawn on her that she couldn't let him go either. Just the thought made her heart drop like a stone. Would she stay John's dance partner forever? The answer was already inevitable in her mind.

'I promise,' she said sincerely, 'I don't think I could ever find a better dancer than you, John. So, I'm giving you my word: I won't move on, I won't leave. I'll stay your dance partner forever, if that's alright with you.'

He broke out into a smile, as he replied happily, 'It certainly is.'

As she began to truly think about what she'd said and how irreversible it now was, she cursed herself. Saying that was like a vow, a contract, that she couldn't back down on. For a millisecond she told herself her decision had been too brash, but another look into his smile and hearing his Scottish accent made her override any rebellious protests in her mind. She was too content with what she had, that never changing from it didn't seem like a big deal. Clara was slowly becoming more attached.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

He lead her by the hand, walking backwards toward the dressing rooms.

'And your foot will be okay?' She checked. She always did, just to be safe. It was less than three weeks left until the show, and only two days since John had come back to start dancing again. While enthusiastic, she had warned him to be careful for the first few days, yet John was hardly an easy person to overrule.

'Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, Clara. It's healed already.'

'We can stop-'

'Shuttity up up up.' He ordered, 'obviously we're doing the rhumba next. Very good job at the tango, by the way, excellent. I love your spin out from the slow parts, it's electric.'

'All down to you, choreographer.' She replied back.

'Hardly.' He snorted, 'now, put your rhumba dress on. This will be the hardest to perform on stage because of the spacing, but it will look fantastic despite. Oh, and it will be a lot brighter on the night as there will be hundreds of lights. But,' he said, grinning, 'of course, you already know everything about that.'

'Thank you.' She said modestly. Clara left him, changing into yet another dress to practice all their dances on stage. She began to smile as she replayed all of his praise in her head, loving the way he complimented her technique and general dancing ability.

Clara tried to zip it up from the back, yet couldn't reach behind her well enough and it was partially stuck. Sighing to herself, she backed out of the room toward John who was waiting there for her.

'Zip me up, will you?' She asked. He couldn't see her face and she couldn't see his, but he willingly obliged. His long fingers glided over her skin, almost caressing it slightly as he gently and very slowly pulled it to the top. The tension had built itself up to a mighty crescendo, his body standing so very close to hers. It was certainly a very sensual gesture and she quickly thanked him before disappearing once again to the changing room. Yet inside she was in turmoil, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her imprinted skin, tingling. It only made her heart thump faster, her mouth to become achingly dry. It was, however, a good way to get into the spirit of this particular dance, the one she had dreaded from the start but now anticipated. What was wrong with her?

Once dressed properly, she stepped back toward him, all anxieties and awkwardness forgotten as his eyes twinkled calmly at her.

'Let's go.'

They made way centre stage, starting in positions and both their faces becoming deadly serious by default. As soon as the music started playing it felt like her heart was in her mouth, as she started moving toward him.

Her hand placed itself on his chest, closer and closer until it created a definite sense of romance for the audience that were currently imaginary. Legs wrapped round legs, arms round arms, until both their bodies were entangled with one another in some seductive way as they danced round the stage.

She threw herself into the dance so much that suddenly she didn't mind the closeness, the intimacy. She revelled in it, in fact. As his hands took their position on her thighs she no longer wore the blush in her cheeks and smiled at how his hands lingered just a moment, like they were admiring the way she shook her hips. The all too familiar fall was less daunting as her trust was deeply placed now in him. Every embrace, so leisurely slow, every turn or caress lasted forever and she never wanted it to stop. He spun her round, coming to a stop as she grazed his cheek lovingly, and this time she was less sure she was acting purely in character.

The dance ended too soon for Clara's liking, coming to the eventual stop beside John, his arms wrapped round her and their faces inches apart. The music dissipated, leaving them in total silence, still locked in position, unmoving. And at that moment, neither had the intention of moving away. His eyes turned to their dreamy state as he stared, as if they were liquefying. His chest heaved, breathing rapidly as she did, and their heads eventually drew closer of their own accord. All at once, they're foreheads were touching, their eyes closing. Finally, their lips brushed each other's, melding, shaping, eventuating to kissing that took Clara's breath away. They slowly parted, gazing at each other in amazement. It only took a second's consideration for their mouths to meet once again, this time more forcefully, Clara fondling his curly hair. His arms enclosed round her waist and she pressed flush against him while he kissed back dominantly. Clara raised her eyebrow, knowing it was part of his nature. Together they stumbled backward, both of them laughing at their ironic lack of elegance. Her arms extended round his neck and her mind had completely melted. While their ages didn't agree their hearts beat as one and she could tell John had been acting on raw impulse. They had reached the far end of the stage wall, John turning her around and pinning her there. She hadn't known just how much she had craved the touch of his body against hers until that moment and cursed herself that she hadn't acted sooner. Although on the stage itself where they belonged, probably was the most accurate place their kiss could have happened.

Her brain was close to exploding as his tongue collided with hers. She stood by everything she had said before about John to that moment; a passion player, someone that directed powerful emotion at anything he did, and this was no exception. Lights seemed to shine from nowhere as they finally pulled apart and Clara couldn't stop smiling at his beautiful face, angelic to her, a statue of marble. It had hit her so suddenly from one dance to the next, a realisation that had struck her just as it had with him. It had been like seeing him finally for the first time, like he had suddenly becoming the centre of gravity itself that she was destined to orbit, like he had become everything she could ever want in one body, her past, her present, her future. She hadn't seen him as perfect as a whole; she knew he wasn't, and it came to her that his imperfections had attracted her even more. When everything came into perspective she guessed it was the epitome of any devotion; to be able to love their imperfections no matter what they were.

His arms were round her waist, leaning on her, smiling brighter than anything, making he heart flutter.

'Does this mean I get to dance sexier dances with you?' His voice was lower, huskier. Clara laughed at his proposal, squeezing his arms.

'On a condition. Could you possibly try and interact with everyone else? I've made good friends here, other friends, and you distant yourself from everyone.'

'I'm not good with friends.'

'You made friends with me pretty quickly.'

'Ah, but you are different. So very, very different.' He ended, kissing her collarbone tenderly. She giggled childishly, unable to repress anything more.

'But you haven't made proper friends since you've been here from like...forever. At least eat in the canteen with us instead of going out on your own every day.'

'Hm. Maybe.' He considered.

'You're not fazed.' She stated.

'Fazed by what?'

'Our age gap. I thought you'd be a bit on edge and cautious about it.'

'Clara,' he said, staring directly at her with the same chilling expression, as if it was slipping down her spine, 'when you see someone, you see someone. Nothing can be changed, no one can stop it. No gender or age or race or origin could ever come between something as pure as that feeling. Of love, I guess.' His eyes wandered off to a spot in the distance, until she brought him back by pulling herself closer to him.

'I see you.' She nodded, palm cupping his cheek, 'I know you. It feels like I've known you so long. And you're right about everything, I don't care either.'

'Time goes by so fast, yet so slow, like the whole universe is playing with your head.'

She nodded in understanding. His gaze was still unfocused and the urge was just too much to bear. Her hand turned his face toward her and she pressed her lips to his again.

They finally drew themselves away for each other, as John spotted figures coming into the theatre doors and his face grew pale. He raked his hand through his hair in distress as a woman with sharp features smiled sickeningly up at him. Clara immediately stood by his side, John unable to say another word. The wan stared up at John particularly, and behind his back she held two of his fingers for support, reminding him to remain calm. She could only guess who she was. It had to be Missy.


	17. Chapter 17

Sorry I didn't update, had a long school trip and a gig to go to and it mostly tired me out. Hope you like the next one. Oh and a big thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited or followed this story so far, you guys are amazing. :)

Chapter 17

'I've come to practice.' She announced, stepping up to the stage.

John was red in the face, trying to control his anger as best he could.

'Why are you here?' He spat, fists clenching. Clara took his hand fully, trying to console him best she could.

'Don't you ever listen? To practice, dear.'

'Don't you dare call me any of those pet names you used to, or I swear you won't make it to the show.'

'Ooh, we are feisty, aren't we? Still holding a grudge?'

He stepped forward threateningly, which Missy laughed at. It appeared she finally noticed Clara by his side, and have her a toothy grin. She also seemed to have noticed their clasped hands.

'You've moved on, have you? Does this mean we can start anew?'

'If you mean friendship or anything else more, you're quite mistaken.'

His fingers trembled, jaw set hard facing her sneering one.

'Fine by me. As long as you're no longer a sore loser, it's all good.'

'You're not going to win, hell, you're not even eligible to compete.' He replied.

'I wouldn't be so sure. I remember when you used to concentrate so hard on winning that you used to physically beat yourself up and shut yourself out. I couldn't even go near you.'

Clara's eyes widened. Despite her immediate dislike she could tell she wasn't lying.

'That was before.'

'That was why our relationship didn't work,' she emphasised, 'I doubt you've gotten much better.'

'Our relationship didn't work because you killed my brother!' He shouted, the veins on his neck straining and his eyes aflame with irrefutable anger.

'He was dying anyway!' She retaliated, and John lunged at her. Clara had to hold him back with all her strength to stop him from attacking her. She could see the angry tears in his eyes for the very first time, knew he was hurt inside.

'You, stay away from me.' He rasped.

'You're afraid. You're still afraid of losing.'

'I'm not afraid of losing. I'm afraid of losing to you.'

'Well, that will be interesting. You know our very first tour together? How amazing that was, how skilled all the dancers were? That is my company now, stronger than ever. I hope for your sake, you are prepared.'

'I don't need to prepare. I have one thing you don't. I have Clara Oswald. And trust me, if I can't win this thing, she will. She is better than you ever were or will be.' He said firmly.

Clara looked up at him in amazement, his statement making her heart jump with admiration. Everything he had said had only made her appreciate him even more. Missy however looked skeptical with a mocking sneer.

'We'll see.' With crimson in her eyes she stalked off back stage, leaving them there alone.

John stared ashamedly at the ground, still mad from the confrontation.

She took hold of his arms, sliding her hands down his wrists until she reached his palms.

'Look at me,' She told him, and slowly his chin raised so he was looking dully in her eyes, 'don't let her affect you. Don't. If you are hell bent on winning, that's just what we'll do.'

Her determination sparked something in his eyes, and he brought his lips to kiss her head tenderly.

'I just,' he said, trying to pick out his words carefully, 'I just need to get out of here. We should be practicing and focusing and bloody dancing, but I just need to go home. I can't bear to see her face any longer.'

She nodded. 'That's sensible. I was going to suggest the same thing.'

'It pains me however,' he sighed, 'all the things we should be doing are beyond me for the moment.'

'You can't help that. I would be the same if I was in the same state.'

They stepped down from the stage, walking out the doors, to which even Donna didn't dare stop. She looked on sympathetically as they exited the grand building and back into street life.

'I'n coming with you. I don't care what you say because I'm not taking no for an answer.'

She guessed he didn't have any more strength to argue against her so for the first time he lead her along the path toward his bookshop.

John unlocked the door and shrugged off his coat, throwing it on the counter. There were endless bookshelves as promised, some she recognised instantly as her favourites.

'You have a good collection.'

'Yeah. It helps to raise a little more money. Especially as I'm the only bookshop there is in this part of town.'

She wondered round, smiling at the array of classics and fictions and non fictions that kept stock upon the well kept shelves.

'Well, it's lovely.'

'Glad you think so.'

She walked up to him, a smile on her face, John smiling in return.

'So, what should-'

He didn't finish his sentence as Clara's burning desire overwhelmed her and she kissed him forcefully, fervently, John startled at first but soon melting into the kiss and reciprocating in his own way. His hand came to hold her head, threading through her shiny hair and pulling her closer in a split decision.

'I'm so glad you never hesitate.' She said, smiling against his mouth. His own mumbled answer came as he pushed her against the first solid thing in their path.

'I'd never hold back from someone like you.'

Some books fell from the force and the weight of their two bodies together, yet they hardly cared as they carried on in the same manner. It was like an explosion, all at once, his hands everywhere, leaving his mark. He pinned her so fast and hard she could feel him rubbing against her own body. Clara felt drunk with his kiss, his lips alcohol that made her dizzy all at once.

He lifted her up, walking backward gracefully while she was wrapped up in his arms. It felt just as if they were doing another lift, their elegance never wavering, yet her mind was a lot more uncoordinated. Her hands anchored into his delightful hair and she felt the steps he took while walking up the narrow, wooden stairs.

Clara was no longer anticipating, but craving what was bound to come next.

John lead the way into a bedroom, further lined with a row of books and a small TV in the corner. However Clara was better occupied with kissing every inch of his skin she could reach, unbuttoning his shirt while he gazed up at her devotionally. Discarding it profusely it was then she admired the taut skin pulling at his toned muscles just about visible on his pale and thin chest.

He lowered down onto the bed, bringing Clara with him, and suddenly the passion took over and he was taking off as much as there was between them. They pushed, tugged, pulled at each other until each was a dance of its own becoming one.

He kissed her neck down to her chest, her face and lips while she played with his cock, teasing him.

It was a relief when Clara finally felt the crushing sensation of him inside her, thrusting into her with that same dexterity and elegance he possessed while dancing. He watched her through hooded eyes, repeatedly pounding like he was passing his energy to her. Hands groped her body and her own anchored in his hair.

With a loud groan he thrusted deeper and harder, hitting that sweet spot as the wave of his orgasm came synchronously with hers. Eliciting a final moan of arousal he slumped forward, immediately taking her in his arms. Her hands still fiddled with his hair and the smile she gave him was a mischievous one full of adoration. He was definitely the best she ever had, and she carried that notion while she kissed him again, lingering at his lips as long as possible. There were no words to describe but she was pretty sure he had forgotten about Missy and the stress and the dances. As he pulled her closer he kissed her hair and uttered a simple phrase that made her heart skip a beat.

'You, Clara Oswald, are amazing.'


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The first thing she felt when she woke up were the strong pair of arms holding her and the rise and fall of his chest. Smiling, she glanced up to see John still asleep, looking more peaceful than she'd ever seen him before. His tousled hair was messier than usual and his chest was as comfortable as the pillow beside her. Clara had no idea how she had gotten this far, how her first day at the group had lead to sleeping with her own dance partner but it had been a surprising and unpredictable journey. One that she wanted to continue for as long as possible, just so she could be near him and the art she loved. Everything had been more dramatic in the last few months than some years of her life and somehow it attracted her.

She slipped out of his embrace, collecting her clothes from the floor and putting them on before settling back. She watched him until he woke, a dazed look as if he didn't know where he was, and then the sudden grin as he stared at her in his bed.

'Good morning.' He smiled, his voice husky and provoking that flutter in her chest once more.

'Morning,' she replied, caressing his cheek lightly. If she could, she would spend eternity right there, frozen for that split second in time. That was the effect he had on her.

He suddenly looked down, confused and wrinkled his nose. She could never tell what he was thinking. So unpredictable, but that was why she liked him so much.

'Why did you put your clothes back on?' He asked, eyebrows knitted together in unfathomable question.

She laughed, her head settling above his collarbone.

'Why do you wanna know?' She teased, cocking an eyebrow for his amusement.

'Because we haven't finished here yet.'

'Oh, haven't we?'

She moved from her position, instead straddling him, hair falling like a waterfall over her head, playing with his hands.

'No, we haven't.' He whispered, his grin seeming to become wider with each moment that passed.

She finally reached down to his lips and this time she was determined to keep control of the situation as he had done last night. Clara kept him there, so he was unable to move anywhere. With a smirk she bit down on his lip, making him growl in return. She loved frustrating him this way. His hands came to hover at her ass but that was all the freedom he had.

'You're so annoying.' He told her, when she eventually let him take her clothes off again.

'You love it.' She retorted, pressing another kiss to his lips but quickly drawing away.

'Just come here.' He moaned.

She shook her head, staring down at his pleading face, wanting nothing but for her to surrender to the heat of his body.

'You're so impatient.' She said, but relented at last and pulled him into a long, lingering kiss that took his own breath away. Hands roamed down the curve of her body and Clara couldn't help the way he looked at her affect her actions. Again, they sunk down into the bed and ravished in each other's body.

John spun her around until they reached the door to the bookshop, an hour late but smiling brightly anyway and finally dressed. Together they walked to the studio, both getting stuck into performing their dances over and over again until they were dripping with sweat and collapsing into each other's arms to make up for the hour lost and yesterday's abrupt leave.

John had kept out of Missy's way, taking Clara's immediate advice to ignore her presence in the building and concentrate what they were doing. He started smiling a lot more and forgetting about Missy and her competition and she was immensely proud of him.

With what they had shared already John admitted their dances were even sexier and better, which only made Clara work even harder to make them all perfect. Especially with the tango and rhumba they couldn't help a small kiss just to accentuate the sensual spirit of the dance, to make it even more authentic. By the time they parted for lunch Clara was exultant and confident, even happier than usual. She had persuaded John to interact with everyone else than just her and as she glanced over at him she saw him actually taking part in a conversation with both Sarah Jane and Donna.

It didn't take long however before he came crawling back to her. Clara had been talking to Amy, Rose and Martha when suddenly his arms slipped round her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder. She looked at him with disbelief in his eyes. She could see the three girls exchange bewildered looks before John had whispered in her ear.

'You're meeting me by the river at 10 o'clock, alright?' He said.

'Why, are you planning something?' She whispered back. He quickly waved her off, which only made her more suspicious. And then a little louder, 'We need to get back to practice, Baby.' He said, breath tickling his ear as his hand reached for hers. A smile spread on her face and she raised her eyebrows at the girls. Eventually she turned her head to reply.

'Lead the way, Johnny.'

He pulled her along with him and they ran down the corridor to their studio, and away from everyone else. Clara wanted to find out why he had told her to meet at the river of all places, but she didn't question. It was John after all.

As soon as she stepped into her flat she was reminded of the mess of sheets that hadn't been made, the cups that were still left out on the drain and the clothes still hanging out the laundry basket. Clara cane to realise just how much this show and all the dances were taking over most of her life, leaving only minimal room for the little things. Not to mention John's tedious schedule.

Despite all of that however, she allowed herself to smile while her brain daydreamed off into a universe where nothing really went wrong. And then she reminded herself of what he'd whispered, meeting her at a river. Endless and random possibilities ran through her mind but she couldn't decide on one. Instead with feet aching and mouth continuously yawning she retired to bed before setting an alarm.

She opened an eye, staring fixedly at the phone buzzing at the sound of the alarm call. Groaning, she glanced at it, only then remembering it wasn't the next morning but late in the afternoon. She took a long drawn and well needed bath, easing her muscles after countless exercise. Her decision when it came to dressing took longer than usual, picking out a shirt or a skirt and throwing it back into its drawers. She had no idea why she was now so cautiously choosing what to wear but with a glance to the clock she didn't have much time.

Clara walked to the river, the same one they had shared that picnic, and she was still in the dark about what he was doing. As she neared closer she saw him by the water, barefoot and shirtless. What he was doing she had no idea. Yet she still couldn't help marvel at his chest that glinted in the light of the moon and on the reflection of the river as he walked toward her. He looked like an angel carved out if marble, curls fluttering slightly in the wind.

She raised her eyebrows at him in confusion, and he took both her hands in his.

'I've had enough of the studio,' he explained, slowly pulling her into the centre of the clearing, 'This is much more beautiful and scenic, I couldn't help picturing the both of us dancing like this, in the light of the moon, but when everything's darker, it's the most idyllic setting for all of our dances.'

'Seriously?' She said, 'you can't stop thinking about dancing, can you?'

'Nope. And I can't stop thinking about you either. Perfect combination.'

And then for the umpteenth time that day, he lead her into the tango right there and then. And somehow he'd been right, the whole peaceful and serene location affecting the pace and flow of each transition, and while looking into his eyes she could see that they had perfected it beyond perfection. Everything was exactly how it should be, and Clara still couldn't tear her hands away from his chest. As he spun her around she could see everything in such vivid tones and it only made everything as much more picturesque as it already was.

There they were, those two figures dancing in the clearing, and every time they touched she developed that tingling in her stomach. His gaze didn't shift the whole way through, fixed on hers like they were glued to the spot. As they danced their way through the tango, the rhumba, the salsa, the mambo and their showcase, Clara was positively sure this was where she always wanted to be. In his arms, dancing with him, no matter where it was. As she was launched backward in that final position Clara swore her heart had stopped for at least half a minute as they both stared at each other, breathing heavily but relaxed in each other's grasp. Clara's palm rested on his cheek and John bent his head down to kiss her. He straightened her slowly so she was standing upright once more and her arms quickly came to wrap round his neck. She was so enraptured by him she hardly noticed when he had lifted her up as high as she would go and they both started laughing. As soon as she was set down they embraced, John's face nestled in her hair and Clara's nose nuzzled into his shoulder while everything was still silent except for the light rippling of water.

'John, you have no idea how much difference you've made in my life already.' She said, withdrawing to look at him dead in the eye. Clara was shocked the words had come out of her mouth, and so seriously too, but she couldn't deny they were the truth.

'Well, hopefully you'll stay with me because I personally have had the time of my life.'

'Did you seriously just quote Dirty Dancing to me?' She laughed.

'I seriously did.'

She shook her head at him but squeezed his hand tightly as she pulled in closer for another reassuring hug.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

It was two days to the show, and Clara was feeling terrible. Tired, ill, stressed, everything attacking her at the wrong moment. She lay in bed with a headache, a cold and a fever and a worry in her chest that she'd let everyone down. And she couldn't do that, not when they were so very close. John hadn't been helping things either, even though he had been the one to suggest a day off, in a shocking turn of events. She was exhausted but knew she couldn't afford wasting time so close to the competition. The anxiety started to gnaw at her mind, making her curse her illness and her cold and the stress was wracking her body with nerves. Tomorrow would be their last day of practice and even if her condition got worse she swore to herself she would force herself out of bed. Nothing was going to stop her from doing those dances. Not even Missy. At the moment her brain was to swarmed to think about Missy and her self-confidence anyway. Everything seemed to be collapsing down around her and she felt immensely frustrated at herself and everyone for this injustice. All she wanted to do was dance with John and it pained her that she couldn't. It felt so bizarre to think it had only been four months ago she was complaining about his incredibly arduous dance schedule. She smiled slightly at the memory. Now, she would have been throwing herself into the studio had she the chance. Clara knew John was excessively stressed and at breaking point about it himself, yet he hid his distress for her sake. She knew deep down he would probably be cursing to himself and breaking things right now. At least he wasn't at the studio, where Missy was. He had took the day off claiming he wouldn't bother going in without Clara, and it was for the best. The ongoing battle between John and Missy was getting tenser by the day and it was a torment for either of them to go near each other.

At least he'd be here soon, it was getting increasingly depressing the more she thought and she desperately craved his comfort.

Soon enough the door opened and he walked into the stuffy bedroom, smiling sympathetically at her quivering state. She immediately embraced him tightly, unable to let go until she was sure she was hurting his back. He sat down in front of her, pecking her quickly and bringing a box of chocolates to her attention.

'You know me well.' She said, impressed.

Although he was pleased to see her, she could also sense the underlying pressure and instantly felt guilty.

'I wish I could just get out if this bloody bed and start dancing.'

'I know, but it can't be helped. You're sick and that's all that matters. Despite all my efforts to get these dances right I'd never put your health at risk for it. Okay? It's important you know that just in case you think I'm mad or stressed.'

At this he took her hands in his and she leaned toward him.

'You are, though. I can see it in your eyes. It's plaguing you horribly. I know it.'

'Yeah, well, you're more important.' He dismissed the topic, but she noticed red marks on his knuckles. Suddenly her anger acted against her sanity and she found herself bursting into a rant.

'I don't care, I just want to start fucking dancing so we can do the show and win, that's all I want to do and no one's letting me do it! I'm not stupid, I know how important it is to you and the rest of the group, and it's just as important to me too, so stop start acting like its nothing because it's everything at the moment! I've forgotten every single dance and I'm fucking scared as hell that when it comes to it on the night I'll be a mess. All these doubts swimming round my head, they're only getting worse because I'm not freaking practicing, John, and that's what's annoying me and, and-'

She couldn't say anything else as he pulled her into a breathtaking hug that allowed herself to calm down. He stroked her hair as she leant her head on his chest, trying to rid herself of eventuating tears. The fear of letting him down was taking over and he laid back down with her, trying to stop her shaking and console her with small kisses. She felt like a baby being comforted like that but it couldn't be helped. For a while she lay there peacefully in his arms, almost drifting off to sleep but her anguish resurfacing every time she tried.

'Clara, everything you said is true but believe me when I say I care about you more than the show, and definitely more than the childish competition between me and Missy.'

He shuffled away so he could see her face and Clara nodded slowly.

'We still have another day, and you shouldn't worry about the dances because you are absolutely perfect at every one of them, okay? You don't concern yourself with any of that, alright?'

'Fine.' She agreed, smiling weakly. His arms folded around her once more and she held onto him like he was keeping her from sliding off the edge of the world.

It took a lot of convincing even then from John but finally she came round to what he was saying. He kissed her in reassurance, cupping her cheek in both hands and letting everything slip away. He was the only solid thing, the only thing real and pure in the world to her, and as she kissed back just as ardently she realised that she was seriously falling for him, a love that might just be blossoming in her chest, powerful and driving her onward.

'Now, eat those up before I do.' He said, finally able to make her laugh. It cheered her up greatly after she'd had a few chocolates.

'I thought you might appreciate them. Nothing like chocolate to take away the pain.'

'Yep. Which one do you like?'

'The caramel one.'

She fed him the chocolate with a relieving laugh. After all the emotion she had been caught up in, it felt so relaxing to laugh again. John had made all her insecurities go away for the time being and after the outburst she'd had she felt she owed it to him to brighten her mood. Hopefully it would affect him as well as her. She hated nothing more than knowing he was in pain.

They were back to normal by the time the box was discarded and they were wrapped up together. Even her sickness was improving slightly and it proved that John was all she needed.

He kindly made her a cup of tea and when he returned he retrieved his guitar. He held her while strumming the chords, beginning to play 'Pretty Woman.' For a while she leaned her head on his shoulder and listened to the melody, watched his slender, artistic fingers manipulate the instrument so beautifully. Everything became calm, the ambiance and atmosphere of their silence something to indulge in while they could. Her eyes dazed, focusing on nothing in particular.

'We will win this.' She said absent-mindedly.

'I hope so. But at least if we don't I'll still have you.'

The comment made her ponder on her own feelings and his. Her heart was completely at peace, every time he was there. He started to play 'Can't Help Falling In Love', which she thought was sweet. She knew he was telling her everything without saying it. He started to sing it quietly, and his voice sent shivers down her spine as she admired it.

'One of the best songs.' She said, John nodding in agreement.

'Yeah. One of my favourites from Mr Presley.'

'If you weren't a dancer you could easily have been in a band.'

He snorted. 'Hardly.'

'No, you'd be good. I'd love to listen to you all day if I could.'

'Well, if you wanted your own concert, you only had to ask.'

She laughed, kissing him on the cheek.

'I will serenade you with whatever you want.' He announced, drumming his eager hands rhythmically against the guitars.

'Make something up.' She suggested. He thought a moment as she snuggled up to his side, his fingers finally sliding to a chord.

He began to play a beautiful symphony that was like heaven to her ears, a dramatic and gentle rise and fall of overwhelming chords all blended into music. She watched him, so concentrated with what he was doing.

'What's it called?' She asked.

'I think it's called...Clara.'

Upon saying her name he looked at her, staring straight through to her very soul. His eyes spoke tenderly all on their own and Clara could hardly breathe.

She leaned forward to kiss him, emotion affecting her every caress of his lips and his skin, and he kissed her softly this time, carefully. The guitar fell from his hands as they embedded into her hair and grazed her cheek gently. All she could do was thrive under his touch as he comforted every qualm she possessed and made her feel at ease for the first time that day. If she had a miracle, it would be John Disco.


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry for the wait, but we've finally come to the end. I'd like to give a big thank you again to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and favourited this story and how much I really appreciate it, and that it gives me so much confidence with my writing and myself, so thank you.

Chapter 20

Clara was feeling admittedly nervous, but for the most part excitable. It was always a mixture of both before a performance, a thrill growing inside her every hour that ticked by toward that inevitable curtain call. It wasn't about the audience; the thing that made her stomach lurch in nervousness was more to do with the fact she'd be dancing with John in front of everyone. She never got stage fright, but it was just the thought of dancing up there in such a way in front of a crowd that made it harder to comprehend. Clara felt like those dances were only for them, intimate and private and only theirs. But tonight they would be performing them for everyone to see and it caused that butterfly feeling in her chest.

'You're going to do great,' he walked up to her, 'remember that.'

She smiled as he kissed her head and beamed up at his now confident expression.

'We definitely have a chance.' She reassured him.

He ran his hands through his hair, eyes focusing on something in the distance.

'Well, we'll have to see, won't we? There comes the devil now.'

Clara turned to see Missy striding in once again. It was the first time the three had been alone together since she first arrived.

'Just come to say good luck.' She sneered. Everything about her tone told them quite the contrary.

'Thanks.' He replied coolly. She was so glad he was controlling his behaviour.

Missy stepped past them, a predatory smile on her face.

'She's up next. Final practice before the show. We can see just how fabulous her dance is.' He whispered, as they sat down in a row of seats. Missy took her position, and while her dislike for her clouded her judgement she couldn't say she was a bad dancer. She had plenty of finesse, but partnered mostly with the group of men dancing around her like she was a deity.

'Typical Missy.' he leaned down, sighing.

Even John had to accept the quality of her jive and the amazing technique she possessed. Clara brought up that same unsure feeling from the pit, whether they had underestimated her too much, if their dance really was better than that. It seemed pressure became a corporeal thing and weighted upon her shoulders.

'They hired a judge personally,' he told her, 'the show is not about entertainment anymore; it's about winning, and that makes me sick, even though I've obsessed over it all this time.'

She could see how his whole face was locked into position, teeth audibly grinding and eyes glaring as he watched Missy launch into her next dance.

She placed a solacing hand on his thigh, to which he calmed under her touch. Eventually his hand came to rest atop hers and he gently caressed her skin as a consolation to what he was seeing on stage.

'She should have done this last year. When I had no dance partner and did solo's. Missy would have beaten them all.'

Her head leaned against his shoulder. 'Her loss.'

'I guess it is.'

He looked at her, a smile beginning to form and he leaned down to kiss her lightly again. As soon as she averted her eyes back to the stage she could see something was wrong. Missy's dancing was now tainted with sombre and the moves became weighted with an unknown burden.

'Well, if that's the finale of the dance I'm positive we'll be that.' He sniggered.

Clara shook his arm, 'No, John, look.'

Because Clara thought she saw Missy stop and stare almost dumbfounded, at the sight of them kissing, and now her expression was definitely not one of victory.

'I think she's jealous.' She said in amazement. It didn't strike her at all that someone like Missy could still behold such strong humane emotion after everything she'd done, but this was proof. By the end of the dance her features had twisted into that infamous sneer and she stalked off like a cat.

'You said you toured together and had a 'thing'. What if she never let go of that?'

'Missy?' He said incredulously, 'she must have known she lost every tie between us when she killed my brother. It's just selfish, cruel spite,' He spat, 'She thinks she can make us feel sorry for her. Trust me, Clara, this is how she wins. By manipulating you. I've already had enough to last me the rest of my life and I'm not about to make that decision again, and definitely not so close to the show.'

Clara took this all into account, but she couldn't shake the feeling there was something deeper to be found in this feud. She could relate to what Missy could be feeling and in spite of everything she'd done Clara didn't have the heart to give up on it so easily. John started to walk past her dismissively when she held him back by his arm. He sighed heavily as she brought up the subject again.

'I'm not saying I feel sorry for her, because I damn wouldn't be for a brainwashing murderer. I'm just saying it's possible that she never actually let go of her feelings. You never saw each other after that, did you?'

'No.'

'Well how do you know she never found someone again, then? Maybe she's never moved on because she still feels strongly for you.'

Although it pained her to say it, she wasn't too shaken by the fact Missy still loved him. Maybe she should be jealous herself, but all she felt was pity.

'Even if she did, I've got you now and nothing's taking that away, so there's no point even considering it.'

'No, the point,' she emphasised, 'is that Missy is still pining for you whether you like it or not and you haven't seen each other for years. The battle, the coldness, everything is supposed to engage you. You saw the way she gawked at our holding hands or when she saw us kissing. Maybe it's not a battle of dancing, it's a battle for you.'

'Clara, there is no competition.'

'And I know that,' she said surely, 'but if you talk to Missy, just for a second, everything might change because of it. You've no idea what she's planning and even if you have to go in there with a restraining pole between the two of you at least you've bloody tried to understand.'

'I'm sorry Clara but I just can't face her. I can't bear the thought of bringing up the past, our relationship, anything we did on that tour. It hurts too much and I'll get angry and start punching the walls.'

'Fine,' she said, 'but you won't stop me from talking to her.'

'Clara, don't.' He pleaded, 'we still have to practice before the show. This is just the sort of thing she wants, to break up our schedule so we can't win!'

But she already started walking away.

'Your schedule can screw itself for the moment, John.'

Without looking back she wandered backstage before she eventually found Missy in the deserted canteen area.

Wordlessly she pulled out a chair opposite her. She made no protest but gave her a freezing glare. Maybe this would be harder than she thought.

'Why are you here?' She asked coldly.

'To talk to you. I would just like to say that I won't judge you if you cooperate. But I know you still like John.'

At the mention of his name her head dropped a fraction, and Clara took this as a sign.

'And why should I tell you anything about it? It has absolutely nothing to do with you.'

'It does if you still have feelings for my boyfriend.'

'Boyfriend?' She said, raising her eyebrow, 'he has taken a big step, hasn't he? Back in our day he wasn't as persistent. Our relationship was infinitely complex.'

'Well, we still have time before the show. I'm just trying to understand you and your motives, Missy.'

'I don't think you'll ever be able to understand just how complicated that relationship of ours was. It was a long time of frolicking around and fucking up. We never took it seriously, at least he didn't. I bet you he told you I broke his heart.'

She nodded, suddenly more curious than she ever had been before.

'Admittedly, I did kill his brother, and that's probably how he means it, but in truth it was him who broke me. He told me his brother was ill and he couldn't stay with me any more. The tour was taking off and I filled in for him at just one show while he was away, and I knew. I had to become the main star, and nothing was to her in the way of that. In my spite and heartbreak I took away his brother's life and carried on with the tour so he could finally feel the heartbreak I felt.'

'And you still feel it?'

'Do you think his heart is still broken for his brother? Of course it is.'

'Why did he break up with you?'

'I don't know, something about stress, which is easy to believe. He got stressed a lot, about the dancing, his brother, me. It stressed him to the point he broke me just because I was there for him. I never endeavoured with men again. Learned my lesson.'

'But you still want John.'

'I can see the jealousy in your eyes.' She taunted.

'You're confusing that with your own.' She quipped back.

Her eyebrows raised and her expression darkened.

'Fine, yes, John Disco has always been hot, both when he was young and now. Sue me, I can't help still having feelings. He has a body like you wouldn't believe, even now I bet he's just as good as he was back then. And he had the biggest-'

'Stop.' She commanded angrily, her cheeks going red. Missy smiled malevolently and leaned back in her chair with triumph. She felt extremely uncomfortable and tormented hearing about Missy's own time with him and was close to smacking her in her smug, arrogant face.

'Listen to me,' she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering and her hands under control from their shaking, 'I don't care about your time with John. This is all just a plot to get back at him, all this dancing stuff. You would have thought you'd gotten over it by now.'

'He calls it a fling, doesn't he?' She laughed, 'it was so much more. We were actually engaged.'

Clara sat there, arms folded. The more she talked the more she didn't want to know, but still that burning curiosity couldn't be satisfied enough.

'Who asked who?' She said quietly.

'Ah, now you're interested.' She grinned toothily.

'Just tell me.'

'I did, actually. He said yes and took me on holiday to France. I assume he hasn't done that, yet?'

Clara's eyes were murder for the woman opposite her, cackling away like an obsessed crow.

'You can't change anything between me and John and I'm not telling you anything about us-'

'Aw, but I've told you so much! It's your turn now.'

'I'm not participating in your scheming little games. It was never about the dancing, was it?'

'Of course it was! By beating him I will have rightly shown him just how much better I am and was as the main lead of that tour!'

'Why do you care so much?' She wondered breathlessly, unable to comprehend her line of thought.

'Because I don't give up. I'm just a pessimistic little villain with 6 inch heels. What more do you need?'

Clara could agree with her on that, it in a way she admired her indestructibility.

'Missy, I'm sure there is someone else out there for you.'

At this she looked surprised at her comment, as if no one had ever said something remotely close to it. For a second she saw something flicker within her eyes, an understanding, a hope. She had struck a chord and everything Missy had said seemed to contradict itself all in that one expression. She sighed a little, twirling a strand of hair round her finger.

'Maybe I've gone too far then, even for my standards. I did love John once upon a time, but maybe the only reason I'm holding onto him is because I want it just how it used to be.'

Clara smiled, triumphantly congratulating herself for not storming out earlier in her anger. She had finally come through.

'And the dancing?' She pressed.

She laughed with an intake of breath.

'Oh, I'm still serious about that. Dancing isn't just your passion, it's mine too and I'm not giving that one up so easily.'

'Fair enough.' She agreed, and shook Missy's hand.

'It should be fun. I don't think I really meant to stress you all out so much...but I did.' She said wickedly.

She walked away, leaving Missy still sitting there but she only got to the door when she spoke again.

'Clara?' She called.

'Yeah?'

'Take care of him, won't you?' She said sheepishly, 'he'll tell you he's strong but he's so delicate inside. Love him like I did.'

Part of her couldn't believe she had said it, and part of her sighed in relief. It felt like her heart was no longer restricted but in full flight. She slowly smiled at the older woman, no longer intimidated by her plans or her abilities to do outrageous things. She was simply just a human being with human feelings.

'I will.' She promised, and the last thing she saw before she left was the twitch of her mouth raising into a smile as she lit up a cigarette, and put her feet up on the chair.

•••••

Clara had told John their conversation, and his reaction was for once a tolerant one, maybe even of Missy. Yet she kept up a strong hold for the ordeal she'd been through already, the lies he told her, the secrets he kept, he was punished in those shoulder thwacks but made up for them in kisses.

All she could think about was the success of working things out and the decreasing pressure that had made all the difference in the world. For the first time Missy was only a rival and not so much an enemy. Of course their ambitions weren't as much dispirited and they still set their sights on winning but they were both appeasingly glad that it was only a friendly competition. John was complaisant, she was hopeful and their final practice went exceedingly well.

By the time the crowds started to fill up they were already dressed and Clara yawned. Every time she was to do a performance, for reasons unknown to her, she would get tired before and yawn a lot. It didn't affect her performance but it was a peculiar tradition she had never understood about herself.

'We haven't even started yet.' John smiled.

'I know, I just get really tired out before a performance. But it won't alter the dances in anyway.'

'I trust you.' He said, as she slipped her hands round his waist.

'You look suave tonight, don't you?'

She said, admiring the flared black trousers and tight fitting shirt, 'I'd enjoy taking that off you.'

He smiled slyly, pulling closer to whisper in her ear.

'You can save that for later.'

She laughed, taking it as a promise.

'And you look beautiful tonight.' He added, looking her up and down.

'Thank you. But I just don't know how to style my hair, I'm caught between putting it up or keeping it down and curling it.'

'I can help with that.' He lead her to a mirror, where she sat down in front of it like a hairdressers and he begun combing it back.

'You're a dancer, a bookshop owner, a guitarist, a stylist, what else can you do?'

He laughed, wiggling his eyebrows. 'Just a lot of experience. I used to actually work in a salon for a Saturday job when I was young. Throw that in with the dancing, it's no wonder my brothers thought I was gay.'

He continued pulling and brushing and twisting until he sprayed a final coat of hairspray and she stared at the mirror in amazement. He had lifted it into an elegant top-knotted bun with red jewelled clips keeping it in place.

'Oh my god, how did you do that? It's gorgeous!'

'Exactly like you.' He replied, bending over to kiss the side of her head lightly.

'Now I really feel ready to dance.'

'I hope so.' He said, spinning her out of her seat and swinging her around like they were about to go into the mambo.

'You know this has been the most amazing experience and to have come this far in four months is like a dream?'

'You took the words right out of my mouth.'

Missy's dances were at last ended, which meant they were up next with their tango.

When she went past Clara offered her a polite smile. 'How'd you do?'

'Very well.' She replied.

'I'm glad to here it.'

She made eye contact with John and they nodded to each other before she walked away. She was so proud that they were at least civil now and they had come far since this morning. Clara viewed it as an achievement.

Together they stood in the wings, waiting to go on.

'I've never been on last before.' She said. John held her hand, asking the question he always asked.

'Ready?'

'Oh yeah.' She smiled.

Soon the blinding lights were flashing in her eyes and everyone was staring up at them, expectantly waiting. The music started playing, and Clara could feel the surge of energy running through her veins and the character develop. Her movements started to flow to the beat and being in John's arms was just pure heaven. She didn't even notice the audience, or care; they were again, fully transported to another world despite the spotlight hovering over them and everyone gawking up at them. As well as the sensual moments, the height of tension would rise within the room yet it was just as if they were alone. Her hands unbuttoned the button on his shirt and they're heads met as they began the next dance, and the showcase was something else completely. Now, the tricky lift was an ease and the whole audience gasped and clapped at each one they performed. Soon Clara felt dizzy from all the helter-skelter spinning and lifting and twirling and when they finally closed everything off with her launched back on her heels, all she could think about was her heart rate and John's face above her until a raucous applause exploded and they smiled at each other in relief. He straightened her up and they embraced then and there, hugging each other tightly with exultance. They hadn't even noticed the audience before Clara was cupping his cheeks and kissing him on the spot, although the sound of the crowd oohing made them laugh. As they turned toward everyone through the hazy lights she observed a predominant standing ovation that made her heart leap. In the realisation she hugged him again quickly in delight and lastly pranced off back stage. Clara jumped into his arms exuberantly and he caught her, spinning them both around in their jubilance.

'Whatever the outcome, you were absolutely fantastic and I love you.'

He mumbled sincerely against her shoulder before kissing her again.

'I love you too.' She laughed, caressing his cheeks and smiling so much she thought her mouth would fall off.

Donna made her way onto the stage and they were once again called back to hear the results.

'For the first time in our show,' Donna explained, 'we have competed against another dance academy. We hope you have enjoyed it and I thank you all for coming, but now for the results.' She said.

The judge took centre stage, and the tension in the room was so heated silence could be heard throughout the whole building. Missy's dance group were looking hopeful as was their own, every dancer in the company gathered onto that stage to here the final judgement. Clara could feel her whole body shake and John rubbed her shoulder consolingly.

'And the winner is...Noble Dance Academy.'

At this the whole right side of the stage exploded, John almost crying and falling to the floor as everyone jumped into a massive group hug. For the past few months they had truly been Clara's family, and she didn't know what she'd do without them. She hugged everyone until her limbs were aching and watched as Donna proudly reviewed the award. She did a small speech about the dancers and how Missy's team was a challenge to beat but there was a buzzing in her ears she couldn't let go of that she suspected was excitement.

'Wait there.' John told her, and as she watched curiously she saw him shaking Missy's hand and leaning into kiss her cheek.

'I won't ever forgive you for what you've done; but at least now I understand you. So well done.' He smiled.

'We did it!' Jack said, putting his arm round her, drunk to the illuminance already.

'We totally did!'

But the real treasure was not that they had won, or had made peace with Missy, or was celebrating like crazy. It was when John had walked back up to her and kissed her so tenderly she had gotten a shock from the lack of his usual forcefulness. Her arms wrapped round his neck and he hugged her closer to his body and Clara realised just how thankful she was that she had walked through those doors.


End file.
